He Who Must Not Be Disobeyed
by KeepCalmAndExpectoPatronum
Summary: When Albus attends a London sex club for the first time, he doesn't know what to expect. His close friend, Bathilda, assures him that there is something for everyone at the club. Despite his initial trepidations, Albus may have found just what he has always been looking for in the form of the enigmatic and alluring dom known as Maître de la Mort... Co-authored with BrandonStrayne
1. Fantastic Kinks and Where to Find Them

This story features a sex club that has BDSM elements in it, but which also features alcohol being served. There is no incidence in this story of characters drinking anything and then engaging in any sexual scenario, however we wanted to advise readers that are members of the scene that this may be jarring. Although it may not be common for alcohol to be served in these types of establishments in the US today, some clubs in the UK do currently still serve alcohol. Additionally, this story is set in 1903/1904, when the times were very different. Homosexuality was still illegal in the UK, so we envisioned this club more as a multipurpose safe space for members of the wizarding community, both gay and straight, to explore their sexuality during a time where it was still very much repressed. As such, we have included a bar in this establishment, but have made every attempt to ensure that this does not lead to any dubious consent issues.

A big thank you to our beta readers, Drarryismymuse and Nymphadorable for their invaluable advice, words of encouragement, and insights!

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"I...I don't know if I can do this Bathilda." Albus looked around the dark club in trepidation. He never would have guessed that the faded advertisement for Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover at the end of the dark offshoot of Knockturn Alley was a concealed entrance to this underground club. Looking around at the various patrons around him, he could see that someone had a macabre sense of humour when they vandalized the slogan: "No Pain, No Stain!"

Red wax candles floated in the air, casting dim lighting on the room. The walls to their left were lined with booths that were made of a dark, almost black, wood but were upholstered in a rich, purple velvet material. As his eyes scanned the booths, he saw a witch wearing—well, wearing very little actually, her robe having added some rather strategic slits that only left a thin strap of material covering her groin and the robe unbuttoned at the top and gaping, just barely covering her breasts—slither underneath the table at the behest of the wizard beside her, and judging by the way the wizard's eyes rolled back, his jaw went slack, and his hands moved to his lap, Albus couldn't imagine she had merely dropped her wand. There was definitely a "wands up" situation transpiring.

When the wizard's head came forward, he opened his eyes and his piercing stare landed on Albus. A satisfied smirk bloomed on his lips and he seemed to give a strong thrust of his hips, causing a thunking sound to reach Albus' ears and a disgruntled moan arose from under the table. Albus cleared his throat and looked away quickly, feeling his cheeks warm with his embarrassment at getting caught out. Out of the corner of his eyes Albus could see the witch ascend from the floor and the wizard grab her by the waist and deposit her in front of him on the table. The strategic strip of fabric was flipped over her shoulder as she leaned back on her hands and the man tucked into his meal...of sorts.

Albus hadn't been entirely sure what to expect when Bathilda had offered to bring him to this private den of iniquity, but he was starting to get a much clearer picture. He was going to need a drink.

Bathilda was looking down at her, frankly obscene, cleavage which was spilling out over the bustier she had on. Based on the looks she was receiving from various wizards, and a few witches, around the room, the bustier's effects were appreciated by many, if not by him. The cleavage may not be doing anything for him, but he had to admit that the deep blue brocade material paired with the multi-tiered moonstone necklace that was dangling between her breasts was a pleasing combination. It gave her an air of mystery and reminded him a bit of a crystal ball used for divination. He knew better than to mention that to her though; she had made her disdain for Divination very obvious ever since his family had moved to Godric's Hollow when he was 10.

Bathilda reached in and adjusted her breasts in the bustier, then cupped them from below and gave them a few quick hefts, until she seemed satisfied in their arrangement.

"I told you, in here I'm not Bathilda. I'm Mistress BeeBee. Anonymity is a big part of what keeps this place safe, so it's important for you to remember that." Albus nodded his understanding; it was just that it was beyond a little weird to call someone that used to babysit you "Mistress".

"Do you want me to take you around and show you—"

"NO! No, that's...um...I'll be fine on my own," Albus interrupted her before she could finish the offer. He still couldn't believe that she'd managed to talk him into coming to a sex club in the first place, but the thought of exploring the place with her...he didn't think there was a _Priapo_ charm strong enough to overcome that level of awkwardness.

Bathilda—Mistress BeeBee—gave him a kind smile, "Okay, just remember what I told you. As long as you keep that masquerade mask on, no one will be able to tell your identity. They're enchanted with a glamour charm that will make it impossible for anyone to remember specifics about you. You'll appear just as you are, but the memories will be blurred if anyone tries to recall your specifics."

Albus reached up to the ornate mask that was a rich orange-red colour and that flared out at the temples like wings of fire. When Bathilda had offered him a choice of masks, he had immediately gone for this one because it reminded him of a phoenix; he'd always wanted a phoenix for a pet as a child.

Bathilda held up her right hand, back facing Albus, "That ring I gave you is the safety precaution. It will glow with colour depending on your mood. Everyone in here knows the rule that if it's glowing red, the scene stops. Immediately. No questions. The scene is about safety, and if you're ever feeling unsafe, the ring will glow red and let them know that. A yellow glow will indicate that you're approaching your limits, and your partner will know to ease up. Green means that you want them to continue with what they're doing."

Albus looked down at the ring on his right hand, which was a murky brown, broadcasting the confusion, fear, and intrigue that was swirling inside of him. It looked a bit like billywig sting slime.

Bathilda reached down and clasped his hand, "Take a look around and try to enjoy yourself. If you want to leave at any time, just come find me and we'll go. Okay?"

Albus took a deep, fortifying breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this. Dropping Bathilda's hand, he walked deeper into the club. First order of business? A very stiff drink.

Albus skirted the edge of the dance floor, watching as witches and wizards swayed to the haunting melodies that were coming from the live band playing on the stage. Only, this dancing was not like anything he'd seen at any of the society balls he'd been to. The partners (or in some cases more) were so close that there was not a breath of space between them. And they were arranged in every combination imaginable. Albus watched as a tall blonde wizard bent down and kissed his brunette wizard companion, their mouths opening and tongues stroking against each other. Albus felt a frisson of excitement arc down his spine and into his cock. He looked down to see the ring change colour, taking on a more yellowish hue, like sun-baked grass.

Pulling his eyes away from the writhing bodies on the dance floor, Albus continued his trek to the bar. Spotting an empty stool, he slid onto it and was just about to place his order when he processed what he was seeing. The bartender's paprika-coloured hair hung loose around his face, reaching down past his shoulders and Albus could see small braids worked through the hair at various points. With hair like that, he must be either a Prewett or a Weasley. The long hair gave his face a softness that belied the rest of him, because his legs were clad in skin-tight, iridescent dragon leather that made Albus wish he could peel them off...slowly. Albus' eyes roamed up the ridges of his abs and got stuck on the golden chain that was dangling between piercings in the two dusky nipples.

"What can I get you?" The bartender's enquiry, delivered with a twitching smile, interrupted Albus' hand, which seemed to have been extending towards the man, wanting to give the chain a soft tug to see what kind of effect it had. Albus regained his composure through force of will, placing his hand firmly in his lap and out of trouble...but he couldn't help but notice the growing stiffness between his legs.

"Dragon Barrel Brandy, please."

The bartender turned around and perused the shelves of liquor behind him before spotting the bottle and _Accioing_ it down from the top shelf. Taking a deep breath, he blew on the bottle, a small cloud of dust billowing into the air. Grabbing a glass, he opened the bottle and poured a generous amount out before pushing the glass across the bar to Albus.

"We don't get a lot of brandy drinkers in here, but it should still be fine. Give it a try."

Albus reached out and took a tentative sip; the bite of alcohol had diminished somewhat, but it still tasted pretty good. It would do to calm his frayed nerves. Albus reached into his robes to pull out his coin purse, but before he could untie it, the bartender told him to put his money away.

"That bottle must be older than you, so if anything you're doing me a favour. One less bottle to dust." At this, Albus gave the bartender an accusing look, his eyes darting down to the dust-encrusted bottle. The bartender gave a small chuckle, "It's on my to do list! So you must be new here. I haven't seen you around before, at least, I haven't seen that mask before."

Albus had almost forgotten he was wearing the mask. "Why aren't you wearing a mask? Aren't you worried that someone will recognize you?"

"Not really. I was fortunate enough to be born into a Pure-blood family that wasn't born with a pole already inserted up their backside. I waited until I was 17 for that." The bartender gave Albus a cheeky wink and Albus couldn't quite believe how forthcoming he was being. A hand extended out to him and he took it, the two shaking hands, "I'm Capra Prewett, but my friends call me Kay." So he was right. That hair really is a dead giveaway.

Albus was caught up in his own musings and it was a moment before he realized that they were still awkwardly shaking hands, an amused smirk on Capra's lips, "And you are…?"

"Wulf." He wasn't sure why he used one of his middle names. He guessed partly because he wasn't as brave as Capra and wanted to maintain some anonymity. Besides, he's got an overabundance of middle names, so might as well get some use out of them. And Wulf sounds dangerous and sexy.

"Sexy name, Wulf." At Capra's compliment, Albus couldn't help but feel vindicated in his choice. "So what brings you here?"

"I came with a friend. She's left me to explore on my own."

"She? Damn, and here I was hoping blokes were more your thing," Capra's mouth turned down in a small moue of disappointment.

"They are!" Albus' eagerness was embarrassing and Capra let out a laugh at his obvious discomfort. "I mean, we're just friends, Bath—Mistress BeeBee and I. She's practically a sister to me."

Albus' heart ached at the reminder of the very real sister that he had lost 4 years ago. Aberforth still blamed him for the death of both her and their mother, insisting that if Albus hadn't been travelling and was home, helping his mother take care of the vulnerable Ariana, he could have done something to prevent it. He knew that Aberforth felt guilty about being at Hogwarts at the time, wishing that there was something he could have done for the sister that he adored so much. Ariana and Aberforth had always been like two puffskeins in a poffle and Aberforth had been crushed by her death. Albus could only hope that his brother would eventually come around.

"Odd club to come to with your sister, mate." Albus is shaken out of his morose thoughts by Capra's irreverence. "Unfortunately for me, I have a rule that I don't date the clientele. Too bad, because you are downright adorable, but I'm sure you'll find someone else to keep you busy."

Albus couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at Capra's gentle rejection and he took a slug of brandy to ease the sting. Which was a mistake—brandy is _definitely_ not the ideal beverage for that kind of drinking. Albus coughed, spluttering a bit before his throat finally stopped its spasming. He cleared his throat and then asked, "So...any tips for where I should start?"

"You may as well take advantage of that liquid courage you just dosed yourself with and check out the back rooms. There's an assortment of rooms back there that cater to just about every kink you could ever imagine." Capra cocked his head toward a door to the right that Albus hadn't noticed before. Not surprising, really, since there was nothing at all remarkable about the door, which was painted a solid black and did not give any indication that there was anything of interest behind it. Had Capra not mentioned it, Albus would have assumed it was a broom closet.

Throwing back the last mouthful of brandy—ugh, he really needs to stop doing that—Albus stood up from his stool and squared his shoulders, ready to face whatever lay behind that innocuous rectangle of wood. He noticed that the ring was now glowing a pale green. That stiff drink did wonders, not to mention the charming ginger serving them. "Thank you, Capra. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too, you big, bad Wulf. Have fun back there, and if you need any more liquid courage, you know where to find me." Capra gave him another quick wink before turning around, heading to the other end of the bar where an annoyed man was waving his hand in the air, trying to get Capra's attention.

Albus cautiously approached the black door. Glancing at his ring again, the colours swirled a mixture of dark green and orange, indicating his excitement and nervousness at what delights lay behind the mysterious black door. Gathering his courage, he pushed the door open and entered a long, dimly-lit corridor with several other identical plain black doors on either side. Unsure of what he'd find, Albus resolved to explore each door in turn in the hopes of finding something to his liking.

Reaching for the door closest to him on his left, he slowly turned the handle and peered inside. This room was as dimly lit as the corridor, but its interior was sumptuously decorated with velvet sofas and large silk cushions strewn across the floor. Soft music and moans emanated from the room as the many inhabitants in various states of undress pleasured one another. One woman lay sprawled on a large, velvet recliner with a man buried between her legs while two women took turns kissing her and teasing her nipples. Albus watched proceedings for a few moments but had no real interest in participating. Quietly closing the door behind him, he reached to open the next door.

Albus flinched as he opened the door and heat billowed out of the room and into the corridor. Curiosity piqued, he popped his head through the door and was met with a room that was disturbingly similar in appearance to the Prefect's Bathroom at Hogwarts; a brightly lit room with a large swimming pool-like tub in the centre filled with foam, bubbles and bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. The air was thick with a heady mix of sweat, perfume from the bath oils, and the unmistakable smell of sex. Albus' attention was drawn to one particular gentleman submerged waist-deep in the shallow end of the pool. His tanned body, slick with water and perspiration, was bent over the edge of the pool as his partner thrust into him from behind, knocking grunts of pleasure out of him as the water sloshed over the pool's edge and across the tiled floor. The gentleman certainly looked like he was enjoying himself immensely, but despite a slight stirring in Albus' trousers at the sight, it wasn't exactly what he was after. Albus was looking for something...more.

With each successive room he explored, Albus was becoming increasingly despondent; however visually impressive it was to come across a room full of couples suspended magically in mid-air having sex, it was a bit vanilla for his liking. The Pensieve Room was probably more exciting for those engaged in reliving memories (or other people's memories) of their wildest sexual experiences. But from a voyeur's point of view, watching people stooped motionless, face deep in pensieves wasn't just boring, it was kind of creepy. Albus quickly retreated from that room.

The Polyjuice Room was by far the most amusing one to stumble across—women transfiguring into men's bodies stood in front of full length mirrors, exploring their new and unfamiliar body parts while men transfigured as women fondled their breasts with the giddy fascination of school boys. Albus rolled his eyes as he closed the door on this room. He had about as much desire to be a woman as he did to be with one.

Pushing the next door open, Albus peered inside and gasped. It took his brain a few moments to process what he was actually seeing. The floor appeared to be a writhing mass of fur, but on closer inspection he realised that it was some two dozen men and women (he couldn't distinguish between the two) dressed as a variety of animals engaged in a mass orgy on the floor. He couldn't help but stare with morbid fascination as crups and kneazles crawled on all fours, sniffing, rimming, and humping each other furiously, a loud chorus of yips, yelps, and howls filling the room. Albus could see tails of all shapes, sizes, colours, and even some forked variants, wagging with enchantments, disappearing between exposed cheeks as the seething bodies moved around the room exploring one another. One of the crowd, bizarrely dressed as a giant pink puffskein, caught Albus' terrified eye. He scurried on all fours towards Albus, panting loudly.

"No no no no!" cried Albus before slamming the door shut again, the ring on his finger flashing an angry red.

"Fuck this," he grumbled. He should never have let Bathilda talk him into coming here, he knew it was a bad idea. He hadn't found what he had hoped to in the club, but he had definitely found his limit. He roughly pulled the ring off of his finger and turned to leave when he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

A faint slapping sound pierced the otherwise silent corridor, closely followed by a sweet chorus of groans—whether it be groans of pain or pleasure he didn't know, but the sound immediately made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He turned and listened closely. The sounds seemed to be coming from the room at the very end of the corridor. Slipping the ring back onto his finger, the gem immediately transitioned from an inert black to shining blue-green with intrigue.

Another slapping sound, louder this time, was quickly followed by another, deeper groan, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. Even though he hadn't seen what was happening, the noises emanating from the room made his pulse race. Turning on his heel, he marched past the other rooms to find the source of the sweet music.


	2. Master of the Little Death

Striding into the last room at the end of the long corridor, Albus was met with a large group of spectators all standing transfixed by the sight before them. There were so many people in the room that Albus couldn't see what was happening, even on his tiptoes. Another loud _crack_ punctuated the silence and an audible shiver rippled through the room; the unmistakable sound of hard leather making contact with soft flesh was music to Albus' ears. He carefully pushed his way to the front to get a better view.

As the crowd of bodies moved aside and Albus finally got a look at the show taking place, his mouth went dry and he could feel his cock flood with excitement—in the centre of the room a wizard hung suspended from the ceiling by magical bonds. His arms and legs were arranged spread-eagle, a thin triangle of fabric covering his manhood the only piece of clothing he had on. As his body slowly rotated around an invisible axis, Albus could see thin straps running between his legs and up along the curves of his arse, attaching to the strap around his waist, leaving his round arse exposed to everyone—an arse which was blooming a beautiful shade of red.

Albus' eyes were pulled from the strung-up wizard to the man slowly circling the opening of the gathered crowd. Albus was surprised to see that he was fully dressed; he could have easily passed for a society gentleman with his three piece suit, the wide collar done up to the very top. The wizard was the picture of composure, and Albus would be tempted to laugh at the bowler hat on the wizard's head if it weren't for the feral look on the face. That look brooked no levity. It was feral...carnal...intense. The mirth died on Albus' lips as he watched the svelte wizard circle his prey.

In a flash, the stalking wizard's arm shot out and a loud smack reverberated around the room; the bound wizard's body jerked, a fresh bloom of red erupting on the fleshy cheeks. Albus could see the wizard's cock peeking out the top of the tight material, already moistened from his excitement as his body continued to be wracked by shivers. As his body slowly rotated around to display his backside to Albus, he noticed a faint outline of a vaguely familiar design on the rubicund cheek. Albus could just barely make out a familiar—but modified—design on the inflamed arse before another blow was imparted and the submissive wizard's body arched, whether in pain or pleasure would be hard to tell if not for the ring glowing green on the wizard's bound hand.

Without warning, three harsh strikes landed on the contused arse and the bound wizard cried out in a mix of sting and satisfaction as the stimulation became too much and his excitement erupted out of the tip of his cock, tucked into the waistband of his scant covering.

The dominant wizard's eyes shot up and before Albus could realize what was happening, he was trapped in the captivating gaze. The cerulean beam that met his felt like a _petrificus totalus_ , rendering him immobile and powerless under the weight of their sultry gaze. Albus felt the piercing glare drill into him before it slipped down to the band around his finger and flared wide, the wizard took a visible inhale at the sight. Albus' gaze slipped down to the ring to see it luminescing a pale blue; he wasn't sure what that meant, BeeBee had only said the ring glowed in a range from red to green, but the commanding wizard with the paddle seemed to think the colour significant.

Albus' eyes crawled back up the man's body to find the eyes, the colour of which he tried to commit to memory only to have it slip through his mind like smoke, fixated on his own. Without breaking their gaze, the other wizard removed his wand from its holster, strapped to his thigh, and released the bonds suspending the satiated wizard from his bondage.

It became too much when the other wizard's tongue extended out, licking the cupid's bow of his lip, and Albus turned away, making his way back through the crowd, who were suddenly pressing too closely against his overheated skin. Breaking through the packed bodies, Albus grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open in relief, barreling out into the hallway and rushing back down towards the main club area. Obviously his liquid courage was due for a refill.

Albus stumbled his way back to the bar in the dance area and tried to signal Capra, but the man was busy at the far end of the bar with another customer and didn't see him. Albus bounced on the balls of his feet, nervously chewing on his thumbnail, silently pleading that Merlin would shine down on him and Capra would notice him there. He felt deeply unsettled, like he had a chortle of chizpurfles crawling around under his skin, and he needed a drink to settle his nerves.

Albus' nervous fidgeting came to a screeching halt when a wall of warmth stepped up behind him and he felt a firm body rub against his. Every nerve ending in Albus' body went on high alert, desperately waiting for stimuli from the wizard that Albus knew without looking was standing behind him.

"What's the rush, little Kelpie?" A deep, masculine voice whispered into Albus' ear, sending shivers down his body.

"I don't…" Albus paused, having to swallow because his mouth was suddenly flooded with moisture, "I don't know what you're talking about." Albus licked his dry lips and a soft chuckle grazed across his hypersensitive nerve endings.

Albus felt a hand, fingertips satin soft, graze against his temple and pull his hair back behind his ear, leaving his skin exposed and all the more sensitive. Before he could realize what he'd done, his head canted to the left, exposing his neck to the stranger behind him and his skin ignited when the stranger leaned down and inhaled the scent of Albus' skin.

A thin-fingered hand suddenly wrapped around Albus's neck from the left, jerking his head back to rest on the shoulder behind him, his ear grazing across the long-past-5-o'clock shadow of the man behind him. The grip was firm, but not restricting—keeping Albus' upper body held flush against the chiseled flesh—as the man's right hand reached around and sprawled across his lower abdomen, pulling his lower body back against the seductive wizard.

"I think you know exactly what I mean, little Kelpie," the man gloated as he nuzzled his chin against Albus's tender neck. "That ring tells me exactly what you're wanting right now, and it's not for me to stop." At that, the man rolled his lower body against Albus' behind, eliciting a sharp inhale of breath and Albus felt his cock stiffen and rub against the fabric of his bulky robe. He was glad that he had opted for the traditional wizard attire, which at least somewhat hid his current predicament.

"Just because I may be interested...in general...doesn't mean I want to get off in a crowded club." Albus' voice was a little breathy, but he meant it; his body may be having a primordial reaction to this man, but he was definitely not ready to pursue anything physical in front of a group of strangers.

There was a brief pause and then the hands slid away and the wizard slipped into the space against the bar to his right. Albus took a steadying breath and focused on releasing the accumulated tension in his muscles before turning to face the wizard next to him. The man's mask was a simple black leather opera mask, which covered the top portion of his face and extended down to the end of his nose. The simplicity of the mask seemed fitting; this man oozed sexual magnetism and appeal and fancy adornments would seem like overkill.

"Can I buy you a drink then?"

Albus realized he'd been staring at the man, trying to commit the features he could see to memory, but was frustrated to find that once he looked away, the perfect curve of those lips would float away and become a vague impression instead. He was desperate to study the wizard's face free of the anonymity mask. "Oh…um...sure. Dragon Barrel Brandy, please?"

"Are you asking for my permission? Because if so, I definitely approve." The wizard's gravelly voice was like a blessing to Albus' ears and all thoughts escaped his mind when the man lifted his hand and ran a single finger down Albus' arm, from shoulder to fingertip. How could such an innocuous gesture practically make his knees buckle? He had to pull himself together.

"Dragon Barrel Brandy, please and thank you." He tried to instill his voice with more confidence and make it a statement, but a small upturn of the lips graced the wizard's mouth.

"So polite. What a good boy you are," the wizard mocked him softly before he turned his attention to the bar and, placing his fingers between those oh-so-soft-looking lips, let out a loud whistle. Capra's head turned their way and he thought he caught a quick eye-roll before the man made his way down the bar to them.

"Big, Bad Wulf. Didn't expect to see you back here so soon," Capra's eyes slid over to the magnetic wizard beside him, "and looks like you've found yourself a … friend." Capra eyed the wizard with a look of dislike.

Albus was surprised when the wizard beside him gave the bartender a predatory smile, more a baring of teeth than a smile. "My new friend here will have a Dragon Barrel Brandy, and a Firewhisky for me. Neat."

"Yes, Sir...oh sorry, I guess that should be 'Yes, Maître', isn't that right?" That time Albus definitely saw the eye-roll, and judging by the low growl that came out of his companion, so did he. Albus wasn't sure what was going on, but it was obvious the two men weren't particularly fond of each other.

"I believe my order was for 'neat', not 'with sass'. You can keep your attitude to yourself and mind your own business. Your job is to keep paying customers like myself happy; I suggest you remember that."

Capra placed the drinks in front of them and gave a tight-lipped smile. "That will be 5 sickles, 19 knuts."

Albus went to reach for his change purse, but a long-fingered hand stopped him, "This is on me. I said I would buy you a drink and I'm a man of my word." The wizard dropped a golden galleon onto the bar, "Keep the change." Albus goggled at the absurdly generous gratuity, but noticed that Capra's body seemed to stiffen and his knuckles were white where he was pressing them against the bar.

After a tense few moments where the two wizards stared each other down, Capra finally relented and collected the galleon. Before he left to serve other customers, he turned toward Albus and leaned forward over the bar, bringing them closer together, and advised in a low voice, "You be careful, Wulf. Between the two of you, you're definitely the Little Red to his big, bad wolf."

"Thanks for the warning Capra, but in some versions of the tale, it's the wolf that fares worse," Albus replied gently. He didn't want Capra to think he didn't appreciate him looking out for him, but he came here because he was looking for something and he thought he may have just found it.

"True, but in other versions the wolf eats Red. Just be careful." Capra leaned back, took one last appraising look at the possibly dangerous wizard to his right, and then left them alone to tend to other customers.

Albus took a nervous sip of his drink, his eyes darting to the side to inspect the wizard surreptitiously. The wizard was leant casually against the bar, facing Albus, and looked supremely confident and in his element. He brought the tumbler of firewhisky up to his lips and tilted it back, never removing his powerful gaze from the side of Albus' face. After what felt like an interminable amount of silence, the wizard finally spoke.

"What's your name, little Kelpie?"

"Why are you calling me that?"

"Mmmm, well...Kelpies are water demons that can take many forms, but their main form is that of a horse with a bulrush mane."

"That doesn't answer my question," Albus persisted.

"The moment I saw you back there, with that ring of yours glowing the most beautiful cerulean colour," the wizard paused, running his eyes down Albus' body in a lascivious way that made Albus's skin tingle with excitement and the ring on his finger pulse with that very colour, "I knew that I wanted to ride you hard and put you away wet."

Albus could feel the lick of heat in his face as he blushed at the base words. He couldn't think past the shock and raw lust that was flooding his system at the moment.

The wizard gave a satisfied chuckle at Albus' obvious discomfort. "That's such a pretty shade of pink. I can't wait to see your arse colour underneath my paddle."

Albus grasped about for a change of topic, worried that he may throw caution to the wind and jump into the stranger's arms if he kept saying such deliciously wicked things to him. "I...uh...I noticed that your paddle has a symbol cut into it. It...um...left shapes on that man's...um...buttocks." Albus stammered through the statement, wishing he had chosen something else because thinking about how he had watched the man writhe in ecstasy from that paddling was hardly an improvement.

"Noticed that, did you? It's my calling card. My symbol, so everyone will know whose work brought such satisfaction and pleasure. All my play partners wear it with pride; I'm very selective."

The wizard reached up and slid his index finger into his mouth, sucking on the digit as he slowly retracted it from between the pouty, full lips. Dropping it down to the tumbler, he ran the long, slender finger around the brim in a slow circle and a faint reverberating tone filled the air around them. Albus realized that the loud club sounds were a faint muffle in the background and wondered when the wizard had cast an _Aphonos_ charm without him noticing.

"The symbol looked familiar. Where have I seen it before?" Albus asked.

"From old children's tales, I suspect," the wizard answered, taking another sip of his firewhisky before he returned to making the glass sing, this time a higher note streamed out of the tumbler as his finger slowly circled the ridge of the glass.

"The Three Brothers!" Albus exclaimed, as the original image flashed through his mind. "But...The Deathly Hallows symbol only has one circle, the Resurrection Stone, but your paddle had two?"

"Very observant, little Kelpie. I think you definitely liked the idea of my paddle. I've modified the symbol to better suit my interests." The wizard reached out and took Albus's hand, turning it over and holding it securely, then began tracing the shape onto the palm. "The triangle to represent the jockstrap I make my subs wear—exposing their arse to my ministrations."

Albus closed his eyes, remembering the sight of the bound man's cock, hard and concealed behind the tiny shred of fabric, and the exposed bum, red from the paddling as he rotated, on display for everyone to see. Albus wasn't sure he could expose himself like that...but he wasn't sure he _couldn't_ either.

The finger returned to his palm, drawing two small circles along the inside base of the triangle, the two circles linked together by a small chain at the top. "The cuffs, because I demand control and submission from my partners. Bondage is often involved in my scenes. The trust that the other person places in me, to tie them up and have my way with them—there's nothing headier than that kind of power."

Albus could definitely see the appeal of relinquishing control to someone else and not having to decide for himself and other people. Since his father's death, Albus had taken over the role of head of the family and though he would do it again, it sometimes left him exhausted.

"And finally, the crop," the finger returned, drawing a straight line down the centre of Albus' palm, in the place of the Elder Wand. "The glorious pleasure that can be found in pain, like two sides of the same galleon." The wizard dug his nail into Albus' palm at the end of the stroke, sending a sharp stab of pain through his body. Albus went to pull his hand away, but the grip on his wrist tightened and the nail dug in just a second longer before lifting, and Albus felt a thrum of pleasure at the small relief.

"So, my little Kelpie, do you want to play?" Albus opened his eyes to see the man had moved closer, his body a breadth away from grazing Albus' and his eyes, darkened with lust, looking down into Albus'.

"I—yes, but..." Albus hesitated. He hoped that his condition would not be a dealbreaker. "Not here. I...I'm not ready for that. Somewhere else."

"Do you trust me enough for that, little Kelpie? This club has people that can watch out for you and make sure I don't get you into any trouble." The man jerked his head back towards Capra.

"I do, and I'm not helpless you know. I can take care of myself," Albus answered, slightly offended that he was being treated like some feeble whelp.

"There's my feisty Kelpie spirit. I'm going to enjoy taming you." The man slid his finger along Albus' jaw, tipping it up so that their lips were almost touching.

"Meet me at this address on Friday, 9 pm. Sharp. Don't be late, little Kelpie, or I'll have to punish you." The man slipped a small calling card into Albus' robe pocket as Albus leaned closer, desperate to get a taste of the man's lips, but he pulled away before contact was made and started walking away.

"Wait, I didn't even get your name!" Albus' shout was lost as the din of the club came crashing back and the man dissolved into the crowd. Albus removed the card from his pocket and inspected it. On one side was nothing but the symbol: the triangle encompassing two circles attached by a thin, wavy line, and the straight line down the middle. Albus flipped the card over and all that was printed was a single title and an address:

Maître de la Petite Mort

13 Dorset Street, Spitalfields, London


	3. A Weekend in Whitechapel

Albus sat in his office late on Monday evening. He was supposed to be marking his fifth year students Transfiguration homework, but he couldn't concentrate. Instead he sat with a worn copy of _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , refreshing his memory on the _Tale of the Three Brothers_. He remembered with a mixture of fondness and sadness that he used to read the tales to Ariana when she was little, the _Three Brothers_ being her favourite. Of course, that had been many years ago.

There was a loud knock at the door and Albus jumped in his seat, snapped out of his daydream and back to reality. He quickly shoved the book under a pile of parchment and straightened his robes.

"Come in," he called.

Bathilda popped her head through the door and grinned mischievously at him.

"Hey you," she greeted him warmly, closing the door behind her. "Sorry I couldn't get away sooner, classes have been manic today."

Bathilda looked the picture of respectability now that she was wearing her formal professors robes, made of the same deep blue brocade material as the scant dress she had worn at the club on Saturday night. Albus was certain that this was deliberate, but he chose not to mention it.

"Not to worry," he assured her, motioning for her to take the seat in front of his desk. "I appreciate you finding the time to come and speak to me."

She waved her hand dismissively as she sat down, "Trust me, I'd much rather hang out in your office than spend my time marking another dismal essay on goblin rebellions. And this is the first chance I've had to come speak to you about the club after you left without telling me!"

"Yes, I wanted to have a word with you about the club," he replied slowly, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. He was in two minds about whether or not he should meet with the man he met at the club. It had seemed like an undeniable imperative at the time, but once the harsh light of day had dawned, Albus had begun to wonder what he was thinking. He didn't know anything about the man other than that he made him want to submit to his every demand. He wanted Bathilda's advice on the matter. Seeing how awkward and uncertain he looked, she frowned.

"Oh no, did you not like it?" she asked, sounding disappointed. Albus shrugged.

"Not everything there, but some things appealed to me," he admitted. Bathilda smiled like a Cheshire cat.

"Really? Do tell! Did you see something, or someone, you liked?" she asked keenly.

"Maybe…" he began evasively. "Have you ever heard of Maître de la Petite Mort?"

Bathilda's smile faltered.

"Yeah, I've heard of him," she confirmed, crossing her arms. "He's pretty well known in the club, actually. Why, was he bothering you?"

"No, he was perfectly respectable I'll have you know," he replied defensively. Well, pressing his erection against Albus' arse perhaps wasn't all that gentlemanly, but he had relented at Albus' request. A shiver traversed his spine at the mere memory of the wizard's body pressed flush against his own. Pushing that pleasant thought to one side, he cleared his throat and added lightly, "We chatted for a bit at the bar and he bought me a drink. He seemed nice enough to me."

Bathilda snorted, "In the whole time I've been frequenting that club I've never heard anyone describe the Maître as 'nice'."

"So you know a little bit about him?" he asked interestedly.

"Personally, not much. His kinks aren't compatible with mine, and I'm definitely not his type. But he has a reputation for being intense."

"Intense?" he asked curiously. "But not a bad reputation?"

"No, not a bad one," she relented. "But from what others have said, he expects complete and utter submission from his playmates." Goosebumps erupted across Albus' flesh at the thought of being at the mercy of the powerful wizard.

"I watched one of his sessions once, out of curiosity," Bathilda continued. "He used a riding crop on this guy, whipping him over and over again. The guy was loving it, but I realised very quickly that sexual gratification from inflicting pain on a submissive was definitely not my thing."

Bathilda shivered involuntarily at the thought, but upon seeing Albus' cheeks flush red with embarrassment she quickly raised her hands defensively, "I'm not trying to shame you, Al. We all have our own fantasies and desires and I'm about as open to exploration as they come, so if you've discovered something that you want to explore then I'm glad you've found somewhere safe that you can do that."

"Appreciate it," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

"So...does that mean you're coming back to the club this weekend to meet up with him?" she asked curiously.

Albus hesitated before answering, "Not exactly…"

Bathilda's frown deepened, "Surely you're not thinking of going to _his_ place?"

"Well, my tastes may be particular, but I'm not an exhibitionist," he explained. "I can barely _talk_ to you about this, let alone be put on display to a room full of strangers. I want to be able to explore my tastes privately."

"But you don't even know this guy," Bathilda warned. "You don't know what he really looks like, you don't even know his real name."

"And he doesn't know mine," he pointed out. "I know where he lives, so really I know more about him than he does about me; I have the upper hand."

"You won't once he's got you strung up in his dungeon," she grumbled. Albus glared at her.

"Just because I'm new to this doesn't mean I should be treated like some feeble whelp," he snapped. "I'm more than capable of looking out for myself."

"I know you are, but…" Bathilda sighed and shook her head. "Look, you're your own man and I know once you've set your mind on doing something there's no talking you out of it. I just want you to be safe, Al. Can you at least tell me where you're going so if anything does go wrong I'll know where to find you?"

Albus glared at her defiantly for a moment then sighed, "Fine." He snatched a spare piece of parchment and scribbled down the address, "I'm going there on Friday night. If I'm not back by Monday-"

"Monday?" cried Bathilda, aghast. Albus ignored her outburst and continued.

"If I'm not back by Monday, then feel free to send a search party," he slid the parchment across the table towards her. "I appreciate you still looking out for me, but I'm a big boy, Bathilda. I'll be fine."

Bathilda took the piece of paper and glowered at it as though it had a particularly offensive insult written on it. Folding it in half, she tucked it down her robes between her breasts for safekeeping.

"You were always a wild one," she sighed, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?" Bathilda gave Albus a scrutinising look, "I suppose it explains how often you got in trouble as a tyke though. I think you got more tannings than your brother and sister combined."

There was nothing that Bathilda could do to tame Albus, but he was keen to let one man in particular try just that.

* * *

Albus Apparated to the corner of Dorset Street a little before nine o'clock that Friday evening. He had been past this street before and he knew it was not a place where those of a respectable nature tended to linger, even in the daytime. By night, the short, narrow street comprised mainly of doss-houses was even less welcoming; Albus pulled his cloak closer to his neck and kept his head bowed as he quickly walked past the many hoodlums, pickpockets and toms that milled around the street, looking for work and strangers to fleece. A couple of girls called after Albus, offering him a good time, but he paid them no mind. He heard them calling him a wanker before turning their attention to new, more eager suitors who had just entered the dingy street.

Albus slowed then came to a stop outside a small, whitewash building that ominously (or perhaps on this street, wisely) had bars on the small windows. Albus checked the address on the card again. This was definitely the place. He flipped the card over and over in his hand nervously, fear and excitement traversing through him at the thought of what lay waiting for him behind this innocuous front door. Albus had never let fear of the unknown stop him before and he certainly wasn't going to let it get the better of him now. Gathering all of his courage, he knocked on the door and waited.

After a few moments the door opened and Albus' breath hitched at the sight of the man before him. While the man who called himself the Maître had worn a mask at the club...this man wore no such disguise. Without the glamour charm Albus could see how handsome the man really was; pale and sharp-featured with golden blond hair that brushed his broad shoulders, his plump pink lips were drawn into a teasing smile that lit up his whole face. Albus tore his eyes away from that perfect mouth and towards his eyes, and noticed curiously that they were the same shade of cerulean that his ring had turned to when they had met at the club.

"Welcome," Gellert greeted him. "You're late, little Kelpie."

Albus frowned and checked his pocket watch, "It's only a minute past nine."

"I told you not to be late or I'd have to punish you," he reminded Albus lightly. "Or maybe you want me to punish you, hmm?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at those words and any doubts he had about coming here immediately evaporated. He cleared his throat and replied hoarsely, "I'm ready and willing to be punished for my tardiness."

Gellert grinned broadly, "Good boy. Please, come in."

He took an elaborate step back and beckoned Albus into his home. Albus lowered the hood of his cloak, better to take in his new surroundings. Like most wizarding abodes, the interior was much more luxurious than their modest exteriors; the walls were covered in dark wooden panelling, complimented by highly-polished, dark wood flooring covered in thick, silk Moroccan rugs. Everything in the house—from the dark gothic furniture, the velvet and silk upholstery to the low-hanging crystal chandelier that hung overhead in the sitting room—screamed luxury.

"You have a lovely home," Albus noted, standing awkwardly by the sitting room door.

"Thank you," he replied. "Please, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?"

"Just water, please," he asked, sinking into a stiff, camelback sofa.

"Good choice, I wouldn't want you to be inebriated for our time together," Gellert smiled. He clicked his fingers and two glass tumblers filled with crystal clear liquid appeared in his hands. He handed a glass to Albus, lightly brushing their fingers together in the exchange before taking a seat in a nearby parlour chair. He raised his glass and cheered, "To new friends."

Albus raised his glass and mumbled 'to new friends' before downing the water nervously . Gellert watched Albus intently.

"You've worn the mask again," he noted with interest. "Is that part of your fetish?"

Albus shook his head, "No, I just wasn't sure if you would be wearing yours. And...I suppose there's a certain safety with anonymity."

Gellert nodded in agreement, "That makes sense. Although, in order for us to play together, a certain level of trust and intimacy must be established between the dominant and submissive."

"How can I trust you if I don't know you?" asked Albus uncertainly. Gellert smiled.

"Trust is earned, my little Kelpie. Trust, safety and surrender are the central tenets of any sub/dom relationship and it's my job as the dom to earn your trust and not to abuse it," he explained. "So tell me, what do I have to do to earn your trust?"

Albus thought for a moment. It certainly seemed as though despite being the submissive, he held all of the power here.

"An Unbreakable Vow of Chastity," Albus suggested. "You break your promise and tell anyone who I really am, you lose the ability to achieve orgasm."

Gellert was silent for a few moments, deep in thought as he considered the terms, his eyes burning into Albus' and making him squirm, then gave a curt nod, "If an Unbreakable Vow of Chastity will make you feel more at ease, then I accept."

Both men slid off their chairs and sank to their knees, facing one another as they grasped right hands. Albus drew his wand and placed the tip on their linked hands.

"Do you promise—on pain of perpetual arousal—to keep my true identity secret?" asked Albus.

"On pain of perpetual arousal, I swear I will keep your true identity a secret," Gellert declared. A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from Albus' wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire. After a few moments, the flame faded and disappeared, sealing the bond.

Both men got back onto their feet, Albus feeling more at ease now. Gellert gave him an expectant look.

"Now you can trust me to keep your secret, will you show me your face?" he asked softly.

Albus hesitated a moment before removing the mask, revealing his true appearance to the Maître for the first time. The man's pupils dilated and he instinctively reached out to stroke Albus' cheek.

"You look much better without the mask," he crooned. "What's your name?"

"Wulf," Albus replied automatically. Gellert shook his head.

"Your real name," he implored, carefully pushing Albus' long, auburn hair from his shoulders to expose his neck.

"Albus," he replied breathlessly.

"Albus," Gellert repeated, the mellifluous tone of his voice seemed to caress the word. "It suits you."

"What's your name?" Albus asked curiously, involuntarily leaning into the man's touch as his nimble fingers traced down his neck and along his collar bone.

"Gellert," he replied, leaning so close now that their lips brushed together. "But you can call me 'Master'."

A small whine escaped Albus' lips as he tried to temper the lust-filled haze that threatened to overwhelm him. The sultry, dangerous tone in which the Maître said the word 'Master' had him rock-hard and he thrust his hips forwards a little, pressing his and the Maître's bodies together. The Maître's eyes widened and he smiled as he felt Albus' erection brush against his own.

"Someone's keen to get started," he teased. "Well, now that we have covered the formalities, are you ready to play?" he whispered, continuing to tease his index finger across Albus' nipple, giving it a light pinch through the fabric of his robes. Albus shivered at the sensation and nodded.

"Yes," Albus replied, his voice low and rough.

"Good boy," said the Maître appraisingly. Turning on his heel, he inclined his head for Albus to follow, "This way."


	4. Albus Dumbledore & the Delicious Swallow

Albus followed the Maître through the house and downstairs into the basement. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they paused in front of a door which was painted black like the ones at the club. The Maître gripped the door handle and gave Albus a wicked grin.

"Ready?" he asked. Albus swallowed hard and nodded, his heart was thumping so hard in his chest now it was painful. The Maître pushed the door open and he beckoned Albus inside, then closed it quietly behind him. The room was small, with the same dark wooden panelling that decorated the hall upstairs. It was dimly lit with several candles floating in mid air illuminating the small playroom in a soft glow. Albus however paid the candles and the interior decor no mind. Instead his gaze was immediately drawn to the centre of the room, his eyes widened and his cock hardened at the sight of the contraption that the Maître had laid out for him. A satisfied smile spread across the Maître's face and he slipped his hands around Albus' waist, resting his chin on Albus' shoulder.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked softly.

Albus swallowed hard and nodded mutely. That he did.

At the centre of the room was a wooden apparatus that resembled a pommel horse. The body was covered in black leather padding and four arms extended out from beneath it, two on either side, with padded arms and leg rests as well as a cushioned headrest at the front. Loosely wrapped around the arm and leg rests were several coils of rope, enough to stop Albus from fidgeting—or indeed, moving at all—if the Maître so pleased. His heart began to race with nerves and arousal at the thought of being strapped to the table, at the mercy of this man. There was nothing he wanted more.

He couldn't help but notice the table to the left of the leather pommel horse. A leather apron was hanging off the end and his eyes trailed across the variety of toys the Maître had laid out for him: the dragon-leather spanking paddle he had seen the Maître wielding in the club, a metal rod with a silver wheel covered in evenly spaced sharp pins, a whipping crop, and—Albus' breath hitched at the sight—a large, black dildo. It had three different sized bumps down the shaft, each shaped like the head of a cock. It was slightly intimidating, but Albus was still keen to experiment with it.

The Maître's hand deftly slipped down the front of Albus' trousers and gripped his already achingly hard cock. He gasped and thrust forward into the man's fist, desperate for more contact. The Maître pressed his lips to Albus' ear, his hot breath kissing his skin and making him shiver.

"I'm going to punish you for turning up late tonight," he whispered, his hand sliding up and down Albus' thick, slick shaft. "I'm going to bend you over that table and tie you down so you can't move an inch, and then I'm going to use my toys to fuck with you."

Albus groaned as he felt the Maître's erection pressing into the small of his back. Without thinking, he reached out to touch it, but the man slapped his hand away.

"Oh, no you don't," he chastised. "You'll be servicing me later, but you don't get to touch without permission. Do you understand?"

Albus nodded.

"Aloud," the whispered word tickled across the tiny hairs on Albus' skin.

"I understand."

Albus heard the rustle of clothing moments before a firm hand was covering his neck, craning his head back to rest on the shoulder behind him. "How did I tell you to address me, Kelpie?"

Albus wracked his brain, which was an arduous task when it felt like all of the blood in his body had flooded to his southern territory. The hand was not restricting his breathing, but it also gave no quarter, forcing his back up against the other man's taller frame. Finally, the correct answer floated into Albus' brain and he let out a breathy, "I understand, Master."

"That's a good boy. You will always address me as such when we're playing." The fingers of one hand stroked Albus' adam's apple, following its movement as Albus' swallowed, while his other gave Albus' cock a torturously slow stroke, pulling the foreskin over the glans and rubbing them together, setting off a fireworks of sensations from the nerve endings in his foreskin. "First things first, I need to punish you." Roughly pulling his hand free from Albus' trousers, he took a step back, his teasing smile replaced with a stony expression.

"Strip," he commanded and Albus obeyed, practically tearing off his clothes. The Maître gently rested a hand on Albus' shoulder and he paused.

"Relax. Take your time," he said soothingly. "We have all night to enjoy each other."

Albus let out a shaky breath and nodded. He began stripping again with greater care this time, his hands trembling with nervous anticipation as he struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt. He made a mental note to wear clothing that was easier to remove next time he came here—there was no doubt in his mind that he would be coming back for more in the near future. When he finally shed the last of his clothes, Albus stood naked in front of the Maître, awaiting instruction. Again, the Maître remained fully clothed, although the outline of his erection was obvious in his tight trousers. He inclined his head towards the black leather table.

"Climb onto the table," he ordered. "Get on your hands and knees."

Albus did as he was instructed, shaking slightly as he climbed on top of the table, resting his forearms and shins on the padded rests. The Maître picked up the first coil of rope and began fastening it around Albus' waist. The rope looked as though it was made of spun silver and it felt silky smooth against his skin. Albus realised that it must be made of unicorn hair. An apt choice, thought Albus. Not only was unicorn hair soft to the touch, it was incredibly strong and durable. Perfect for tying someone up.

"If you want to stop at any time—even if it's just to readjust the ropes or if you get a cramp, or if you want to stop completely—the ring will let me know, but you'll have to tell me what's causing you discomfort. I expect you to be honest with me, do you understand?" he asked, carefully securing Albus' torso.

"Understood," he agreed quietly.

A sharp crack split the air and Albus's body jolted, but he wasn't sure whether it was from the sting of pain which was now giving way to a wonderful tingling sensation that caused his cock to give a jerk of appreciation, or if it was just from the surprise of the action. Albus swallowed, his mouth suddenly flooding with a spike of anxious excitement. Albus looked at the magical ring on his right hand and took in the swirling green liquid, that gave off a faint pulsing light. Albus licked his lips and tried again, "I understand, Master."

The Maître eyed Albus appraisingly, finally seeming satisfied. The sternness melted away from his face and Albus shivered when the Maître's voice slid down several octaves and in a gravelly voice he crooned, "Good boy."

Once Albus' upper body was fastened into place, the Maître began securing his legs, sliding the rope over his taut thighs and calves, deliberately brushing the palm of his hands over his bare flesh, teasing him even now before their play really began. It would have been easier and quicker to use his wand, but the Maître wanted to touch Albus, wanted to take his time with him. Standing behind Albus now, he pulled two ropes up between his legs and around his hips, tightening them so that they pulled his arse open, leaving his anus, cock, and balls exposed for easier access. Albus' heart hammered hard in his chest; the Maître had barely touched him and he was already feeling light-headed. He felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable in this position, and he'd never been harder in his life.

The Maître double checked that all of the ropes were secure enough to stop Albus from fidgeting, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. Finally, he took a few steps back to admire his handiwork; Albus on all fours, ass up and strapped down, completely at his mercy.

"You should see yourself like this," he sighed, nodding his head appreciatively. "You look divine."

As erotic as the sight was, the best part was the look in Albus' eyes—complete and utter submission and trust. He circled Albus, appreciating him from all angles, coming to a stop in front of him. Making sure Albus' gaze was fixed on him, he squeezed his erection through his tight trousers, groaning softly. Albus' eyes glazed over and he involuntarily licked his lips. The Maître smiled, pleased that Albus was as much into this as he was. He liked this one—liked him a lot, in fact. He definitely planned on punishing Albus with pleasure tonight. That way hopefully he'd come back for more.

Albus' eyes followed the man as he moved across the room towards the table with his tools of pain and pleasure, pacing back and forth, trying to decide which one to use.

"Choices, choices…" he sighed, his hand hovering back and forth over the different toys. His hand lingered over the wartenberg wheel, then the paddle, but at the last moment he snatched up the black dildo. An involuntary whimper escaped Albus' lips at the mere thought of the Maître putting it inside of him. As his erection pressed hard against the leather surface of the table, he tried rutting back and forth, desperate to increase the sensation, but he couldn't move an inch. The Maître held out the dildo for Albus' perusal.

"I'm going to fuck you with this," he informed him matter-of-factly. Albus' pupils were so dilated they looked almost black. "But you aren't allowed to come until I give you permission to. Understood?"

"Understood, Master," Albus replied, his voice low and rough.

He stepped behind Albus and marveled at the sight before him for a few moments before casting a silent lubrication spell, teasing Albus' hole with his finger, which easily slipped inside of him. His grin broadened.

"Prepped yourself before coming here tonight, did you?" he chuckled. "I love how keen you are. You just want this thick, black cock inside of you now, don't you?"

"Merlin, yes," breathed Albus. A pleasant sting erupted across his bare flesh and his ass clenched around the Maître's fingers.

"What was that?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, Master," Albus groaned, correcting himself. The Maître carefully removed his fingers then lightly brushed the dildo against Albus' entrance.

"Ready?" he asked. Albus closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths, trying to relax.

"Ready, Master," he confirmed. Gellert began to press the dildo against Albus' hole, meeting some resistance but slowly, gradually, the Maître pushed it further into him. Albus' breaths were coming out in quick, hard pants as the toy slid deeper inside of him, and as the first bump slid past the tight ring of muscles, Albus' eyes flew open and he gasped, "Oh, god!"

He tried arching his back as much as possible, but the ropes prevented him from moving. The Maître pulled the toy back out entirely and whispered, "Does that feel good?"

"Fuck yes, Master," he groaned. The Maître smiled and proceeded to slide it back in again in long, slow strokes, over and over again, pushing Albus closer and closer to the edge. Albus tried to lean back, desperate to increase the speed and intensity of the man's torturously slow sexual ministrations. The Maître noticed how fidgety Albus was getting and he tsked.

"Quite impatient, aren't you?" he teased. "I'll have to punish you for that."

"Yes...please..." Albus whimpered, desperate for the pain and pleasure of the Maître's retribution. The Maître murmured a spell under his breath and enchanted the dildo to continue sliding in and out of Albus' ass on its own while he moved round to face him, his erection pressing uncomfortably against the constraints of his trousers.

Albus' breathing was becoming increasingly ragged, his skin slick with perspiration. He was so close to coming, but he concentrated on holding off—he hadn't been given permission to come yet. The Maître lifted Albus' chin a little and ran his thumb over his pink, pouty lips.

"You've got a pretty mouth," he said, his voice low and husky. "It would look even prettier wrapped around my cock"

Albus groaned and gave the Maître's thumb a light suck, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Gellert's as he did so, sending a shot of pleasure straight to the Maître's cock. He really, _really_ liked this one…

He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his thick, hard cock, stroking it back and forth a few times while Albus watched intently as if mesmerised by the display. He took a step closer, holding his member just out of reach of Albus' lips.

"I'm going to let you suck my cock now," he said. "But remember, don't come until I give you permission to. Understood?"

"Understood, Master," Albus replied roughly, straining to get the cock in his mouth, the dildo still slowly working its way in and out of his body. The Maître rested his free hand on the back of Albus' head and pressed the head of his cock against Albus' lips. Albus' tongue swiped the tip and he shivered involuntarily at the sensation. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath in an effort to compose himself before speaking again.

"More?" he asked. Albus groaned in approval and the Maître gladly obliged, taking a firm grip on Albus' silky, auburn hair and sliding himself deeper into his mouth. Albus closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, relishing the taste of the man's sweet, swollen flesh sliding in and out of his mouth to the same rhythm as the dildo sliding in and out of his body. A thick fog of arousal clouded his mind, totally lost in the aching pleasure pulsing from his groin, growing and spreading with intensity through his body with each delicious stroke.

"Fuck," hissed the Maître as Albus began to eagerly suck his cock, tightening and relaxing his lips as the Maître slid the shaft in and out of his mouth, swirling his tongue over the tip over and over again. Despite his best efforts, the Maître was quickly losing his composure.

"Merlin, you're good at that," he slurred. "Fuck me…"

Albus groaned and redoubled his efforts, the sound and vibration sending a delicious shot of pleasure through the Maître's cock and up his spine. He gripped Albus' hair more tightly to steady himself as his legs began to shake. Fuck, what was this guy doing to him? He was supposed to be the one in control, but here was the submissive making him weak in the knees. If he was going to maintain a modicum of control he'd need to end this now. Not that he had much choice—a few more sucks from Albus and he was going to blow his load.

"I'm going to come in your mouth now," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady and authoritative. "Ready?"

Albus groaned eagerly, his head spinning, totally lost in the spiral of overwhelming pleasure. A crescendo of noises filled the room, the wet sound of Albus sucking cock as the dildo continued to slip in and out of his slick hole, their ragged breaths and moans and finally a sharp cry from the Maître as he came.

"Oh fuck!" gasped the Maître, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips forward as his cock began to pulse. "Come for me now, Albus!"

Finally, mercifully, Albus was allowed to come. His fingernails dug into the leather armrest, his whole body stiffened and he moaned as his orgasm took hold; for a few perfect moments Albus felt free—free from his life, from himself—and every pent up emotion inside of him, every uncertainty and fear melted away as pleasure seemed to consume him entirely. Losing control like this...it was liberating. And it was all thanks to the man before him.

The Maître took a couple unsteady steps back from Albus, panting hard and wiping his damp, blonde hair from his eyes. He looked down at Albus with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

"I think this could be the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership between the two of us, little Kelpie. Now swallow like a good boy."

Albus was definitely a very good boy.


	5. Good Kelpie, Bad Kelpie, Black Kelpie

Albus rushed into the Monday morning staff meeting just as Headmaster Black began going over the important notes for the teachers.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore. So kind of you to grace us with your presence. You know, when I was a new professor, I was sure to pay diligent attention to my calendar and ensure I arrived on time. And as you can see, it proved worth the effort as I am now Headmaster of this illustrious institution. I suggest you practice your _Tempus Charms_ , or you'll never have a chance of standing in my place."

"Sorry Sir, it won't happen again," Albus murmured an apology, bowing his head and hustling over to the empty seat that Bathilda had saved beside her. Albus chanced a look at her as he made his way down the staff table and knew at once that he was in for a lecture from the look of annoyance on her face. But really, he _had_ told her that he might not be back in touch until Monday… sure, he had been half kidding when he'd said it, but she couldn't say he hadn't warned her. Albus cast a furtive glance up to Headmaster Black as he arrived at his chair and was relieved to see that the cantankerous man was turned away from them and was enchanting the chalk to scrawl this week's hall monitoring schedule across the chalkboard. Albus removed his wand and discretely cast a _Cushioning Charm_ on the chair and eased himself carefully into it.

"A little sore, are we?" Bathilda leaned forward and whispered to him. The annoyed look had shifted into a smirk at Albus' obvious discomfort. Albus pointedly ignored her teasing and she leaned back in her chair. Albus had no doubt that she would demand the specifics of his weekend activities, and he almost wished that she was still upset with him; as much as he hated her lecturing him like he was still a child, the idea of relating the specifics of what he and Gellert had done all weekend made him squirm—which set off a dull ache from the bruises blooming on his backside right now.

Yes, he was a little sore, and he relished it, because every dull throb of pain reminded him of Gellert and he was counting down the hours until he could get fresh ones.

Albus followed Gellert downstairs to the playroom, excited and curious as to what the Master had planned for him this evening. When they entered the room the first thing he noticed was that the pommel was gone. In its place were two coils of unicorn-hair rope, hanging in the centre of the room, looped through two hoops drilled into the ceiling. Albus' heart began to race remembering the man that Gellert had suspended in the club. In that moment he had wanted more than anything else to be that man, to feel the sting of the paddle against his bare flesh. Now was his chance to experience it for himself.

Gellert faced Albus and gazed at him with an expression of lust and adoration. He cupped his cheeks and whispered, "You're going to look so beautiful dangling off of the ground, naked, completely at my mercy." He pressed a light kiss on Albus' lips before taking a step back, his sweet smile quickly fading into a stony gaze and the commanding voice of the Maître took over.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered. Albus began to disrobe, glad that he chose clothing that was loose-fitting and free of buttons so he could strip and redress with ease. When he was naked, the Maître beckoned him to the centre of the room and began securing the ropes around Albus' wrists.

"How does that feel?" he asked. Albus rotated his wrists and nodded in approval.

"Feels fine, Master."

"Good boy," said the Maître. Drawing his wand, he tapped the rope and it began to slither like a silver snake up through the hoops, slowly forcing Albus to raise his arms and then to raise off of the flat of his feet onto his tiptoes before it stopped. Once he made sure Albus was comfortable but secure, the Maître picked up the black leather riding crop from the table, tapping it hard against his thigh as he slowly circled Albus, appreciating him from all angles. He really did look beautiful like this—cock hard, his muscles taut against the constraints, and completely at his mercy. He stood behind Albus and traced the tip of the riding crop along his broad shoulders, smirking as Albus twitched at the sensation.

"You have so much smooth, pale skin, my little Kelpie," he sighed, dragging the tough leather of the whip across his flesh. "Too pale, in my opinion. Your body requires my ministrations in order to correct that."

"You keep calling me that. Is it because I'm hung like a horse?" quipped Albus.

 _Whack_.

Albus drew a sharp breath, relishing the pleasant sting that erupted across his bare flesh on his left shoulder.

"Insubordination will be punished," the Maître warned.

"Maybe I want to be punished," Albus challenged.

Three successive cracks of the riding crop struck Albus' arse, one above the other. He gritted his teeth and groaned, his thighs already beginning to shake a little as he felt the heat rising from his skin.

The Maître stepped in front of Albus and thrust his chin up with the tip of the riding crop. Bringing their faces close together he hissed, "You're a bratty little sub, aren't you? You think you can trick me into punishing you by acting out? I am the Master, little Kelpie, remember that. I decide when you get punished."

His voice was low and dangerous, but Albus noticed the outline of his erection in his trousers. He suppressed a smile, a thrill of satisfaction coursing through him that he could elicit such a visceral reaction from his Master. The Maître raised his riding crop again to strike but paused, letting his arm fall limp by his side. He considered Albus closely for a few moments, deep in thought, then without warning he drew his wand and tapped the restraints around Albus' wrists and they vanished. Albus watched, confused, as the Maître turned his back on him and placed his riding crop back into its holder.

"What's the matter?" he asked, panic rising in him. Maybe his cheek had pushed the Maître too far.

"I warned you that insubordination would be punished," he explained as he rummaged through a set of drawers in the corner of the room. "Whipping you isn't really a punishment for you though, is it? You enjoy it too much. This however…" the Maître turned, a malicious grin spread across his face as he held out, to Albus' horror, a chastity belt. "This would be a proper punishment for you, wouldn't it? No pain and no pleasure for you my little Kelpie, not until you learn to behave yourself."

Albus gaped at him. The leather chastity belt looked incredibly restrictive, particularly for someone as well-endowed as himself. He eyed the Maître uncertainly, "H-how long do I need to wear it for?"

The Maître shrugged, "A couple of days. Come back here on Wednesday evening and I'll decide whether or not you've learned how to behave. Otherwise, you might be wearing it for the rest of the week."

"Oh god," groaned Albus.

"Oh yes," teased the Maître. "Two days, little Kelpie. And you _might_ get a reward for your good behaviour. If you do need to remove it, just use the spell _Lecheor_ and it will release, but I will be very disappointed."

Albus nodded and spread his legs, widening his stance and giving his consent for his Master to put the chastity belt on him. There was no way he would be taking this thing off before his Master gave him permission to do so.

* * *

Wednesday, March 2, 1904 was dreary and grey, the grounds saturated with March showers, but Albus had more important things to concern himself with than something so trivial as the weather. He had been wearing the chastity belt for almost three full days now and it had been a constant source of friction and frustration and Albus could feel a frenzy of need building within him. He couldn't wait until this evening when he would get to prove to his Master how obedient he had been these last few days.

He was walking around the room, watching his seventh year students attempt to transform a garden gnome into a tea kettle. He had been in the middle of commending Robert Levin on his first attempt—which did resemble a teapot on top, but unfortunately was still running around the table and letting out periodic flatulence—when he felt the first stirring from the belt, a barely-there vibration.

Before he could process it, the sensation was gone and he was sure that he had imagined it. He corrected Robert's wand movement—far too much flick—and had just called the class's attention to demonstrate the wand motion again when he felt it once more, and this time he was sure that he wasn't imagining it.

"Are you okay, Professor?" Marguerite's concerned inquiry jolted him from his shocked stupor and he realized that he had been standing slack-jawed as his class watched him expectantly. He quickly scanned the class full of students in horror, thinking that they must somehow sense what was happening, but all he found was a mix of yawning boredom, eager attentiveness, and mild concern.

"Yes, thank you. I'm quite alright. Now, if you will take note, it is important to not swing the wrist too vigorously during the motion." Albus demonstrated the wand movement quickly, ignoring the pleasant sensation enveloping his penis, and then set the class back to practicing and took refuge behind his desk.

It was not a moment too soon, as he felt the restrictive band—his only saving grace up until this point—loosen slightly, allowing a small trickle of blood to flow into the stimulated flesh and begin to harden his prick.

"Ugh…Actually, I am feeling slightly unwell. Class is dismissed early today. You can use this extra time to study for your N.E.W.T.S." The class looked surprised, but pleased, and began to pack up their things. Albus watched impatiently as the last few students finally made their way out into the corridor and then he pulled out his wand and cast a _Colloportus_ at the door with a sigh of relief.

 _Merlin's balls, I have to get this thing off!_

Albus scrabbled to pull his robes up around his waist, unfasten his suspenders, and pull down his trousers and pants. He sunk into the chair and had his wand pointed at the torturous device, the _Lecheor_ on his lips, when he stopped. He really didn't want to disappoint his Master, and now that the children were no longer here, his feelings of horror and embarrassment were transitioning into arousal and excitement.

Albus reached out and set his wand down on his desk and gripped the armrests of his chair, settling himself in for this sweet torture.

* * *

Albus knocked on Gellert's front door feverishly. He wasn't supposed to be there 'til nine o'clock, but the chastity belt was driving him to distraction and he was desperate to get it off. He had been fortunate that the vibrations hadn't started until his final class of the day, but they continued through the late afternoon and into the evening and he had had to claim illness and have the house elves deliver dinner to his chambers, unwilling to risk a trip down to the Great Hall. He was proud that he had not only refrained from releasing the belt, but had even managed to keep from touching himself, knowing instinctively that would make his Master happy.

He waited a few moments, hopping from one foot to the other, which did little to abate his discomfort. Finally the door swung open and there stood Gellert, smiling serenely at him.

"Albus," he greeted him airily. "You're early."

"I know," Albus groaned. "I hope that's okay."

"It's fine," he assured him, stepping aside to allow Albus to enter. "I just don't like you being late. You know what happens if you turn up late."

"Yes, Master," Albus replied automatically, trying not to limp as he entered the darkened living room. Gellert chuckled and swished his wand above his head, causing the many candles in the room to ignite, bathing the room in soft light.

"We aren't playing yet Albus, you don't have to call me Master now."

"I know, but—" Albus winced as he sat down on the camelback sofa. "I-I'm happy to start playing now. If you'd like."

Gellert couldn't help the smirk that teased the corner of his lips. He sat in the parlour chair and watched Albus writhe under his intense gaze.

"Are you in some discomfort, Albus?" he simpered.

"Yes, Master," he replied, his voice slightly strained.

Gellert nodded sympathetically, "Yes, chastity belts can be quite uncomfortable, especially for a well-endowed colt like yourself. So, do you think you've learned your lesson?"

"Yes, Master," Albus replied desperately.

"And if we play, do you promise to behave yourself this time?"

"Yes, Master," Albus repeated immediately. "Absolutely."

Gellert grinned broadly, "We'll see."

Gellert rose to his feet and walked across the room towards a long sideboard. Albus noticed curiously that it had a black silk sheet draped over it. He tore his gaze away from the sideboard to look at Gellert, who had his arms crossed and a stony expression.

"You've been a bad boy, my little Kelpie," he whispered. "What is it going to take to train you?"

Albus felt like all of the blood in his body rushed towards his groin, leaving him feeling light-headed with arousal at the mere thought of what his Master was going to do to him. It was an uncomfortable sensation as the chastity belt restricted his erection. He only hoped he'd been well-behaved enough to be permitted to take it off. The Maître considered him carefully for a moment before he spoke again.

"Strip," he ordered. Albus hesitated.

"Strip here?" he asked uncertainly. "Not downstairs?"

"Did I say downstairs?" asked the Maître sharply. Albus blushed at questioning his Master and without further prompting he began to strip in the middle of the living room. He couldn't help the sigh of relief as he slipped off the chastity belt, his achingly hard erection springing free the moment he pushed the infernal contraption down past his thighs. When he had shed all of his clothes, leaving them in a neat pile on the camelback sofa, he waited for further instruction. The Maître gave Albus' body an appreciative once-over.

"You've done well, little Kelpie. Very well indeed," he said appraisingly. "I think it is time for your reward. Stand still," he ordered, turning to face the sideboard. "Don't move a muscle."

Albus did as he was told, struggling to follow the Maître's movements without turning his head. The Maître pulled back the silk sheet to reveal an assortment of metallic and leather instruments and Albus couldn't help but gasp at the sight of them. Albus panicked a little as he saw the Maître pick up what he thought was another chastity belt, but as he stepped back towards Albus he realised curiously that it was a jockstrap; the same kind that he had seen the man Gellert had been playing with at the club wearing. The Maître reached around Albus' waist and attached the belt strap before tucking his cock into the holder. Giving Albus' arse a light squeeze for no other reason than because it pleased him to do so, he turned back to the sideboard and picked up a T-shaped spreader bar that had a dragon-leather collar and cuffs. He walked behind Albus and carefully brushed his long, auburn hair from his neck, the feather-light graze of his fingertips causing goosebumps to erupt across his flesh.

"I'm going to put this around your neck," the Maître explained softly. "Let me know if it is too tight."

He slipped the soft leather collar around Albus' neck and began to fasten it, making it snug enough that it rested comfortably against his skin but not so tight as to restrict his breathing.

"Put your hands behind your back," he ordered. Albus obeyed, waiting patiently as the Maître fastened the cuffs around his wrists.

"How does that feel?" he asked. Albus flexed his wrists and neck, meeting some resistance but nothing was tight enough to pinch his skin or restrict circulation.

"Feels good, Master," he confirmed quietly. The Maître smiled appraisingly at him, enjoying the rich blue-green glow of the ring casting beams of light onto Albus' freckled back, then turned wordlessly back to the sideboard, picking up the leg spreader before lowering onto his knees in front of Albus' very erect cock. The Maître smirked and brought his lips close to the already sodden fabric covering his erection.

"So keen…" he teased, running his finger up the shaft towards the tip. Albus gasped and his cock twitched at the sensation, but he remained stock-still, resisting the temptation to thrust his hips forward.

"You're showing an incredible amount of restraint," the Maître noted, pushing Albus' legs further apart before securing the leather cuffs around his ankles. "Perhaps we're making progress with your training after all."

He rose to his feet and gave Albus' cock a slight tug, baring his teeth menacingly as he did so, "Get on your knees."

Albus immediately dropped to his knees without a second thought, ready and willing for whatever reward his Master saw fit to deal him. The Maître drew the riding crop from its holder and held it out for Albus' perusal.

"Let's see if you can hold your tongue this time, hmm?" he teased. Without warning, the Maître swung the crop down and struck Albus' right nipple.

"Fuck!" he shouted, the pale skin immediately blooming red as the sharp sting subsided and a pleasant warmth spread across his chest. The Maître struck again on the left nipple this time, but Albus had been better prepared for it so he gritted his teeth and rode the wave of pain and pleasure as his Master continued to place strategic strikes across his abdomen, his shoulders, the front of his thighs.

"The only time I want you to use your tongue is when I give you permission to," the Maître warned. "Understood?"

 _Whack._

Another strike, this time across both arse cheeks, causing Albus to grunt and twist against his restraints. They clinked noisily as he tried to move, but there was nowhere to go.

"Yes, Master," he grunted, his breaths coming out in sharp panting breaths now. Days of pent up frustration meant he was already teetering towards the edge. He felt like his whole body was throbbing—his stomach, his arse cheeks, his cock—his entire body was pulsing with arousal, another few blows from the riding crop and he'd come. Hard. The Maître continued his ministrations on Albus' arse, _whack whack whack_. Albus groaned and his back bowed. Just one more strike was all it would take...

"Stand up," the Maître commanded. Albus' head was swimming and he could barely breath, barely think, let alone stand. But he didn't want to displease his Master. Slowly, despite the violent shaking of his legs and the throbbing pain on his arse and the back of his legs, despite struggling against his restraints, he began to rise.

"Up! Up!" shouted the Maître, cracking his whip against his thigh. With a herculean effort, Albus rose to his feet. He straightened his back and closed his eyes, taking a moment to catch his breath. The Maître gently brushed Albus' damp hair out of his face and gave him a warm smile.

"Good boy," he crooned. He inclined his head and said, "Bend over the sideboard."

With some difficulty, Albus shuffled over to the sideboard and bent over it, his torso already slick with perspiration, sliding against its smooth, high-polished surface. The wood felt pleasantly cool against his heated skin, soothing the welts rising across his chest and stomach. A thrill of excitement shot through Albus as he felt the outline of his Master's erection press against his rear. The Maître wordlessly summoned one of the many candles and caught it in his outstretched hand. Albus' eyes widened as the Maître held it out for his perusal.

"Would you like me to mark you, little Kelpie?" he offered. "That way you can feel a part of me wherever you go."

"Fuck yes," groaned Albus. There was nothing he wanted more. The Maître raised the candle high above Albus and began to drizzle wax along his shoulder blades.

"Fuuuuuuck," he hissed.

"Too much?" asked the Maître, pausing. Albus gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"No, Master," he huffed out in a forced breath. "Keep going."

The Maître continued, drawing long lines of liquid from each of his shoulders down to meet at a point in the dip of his lower back, forming the shape of a triangle. As he continued to mark his symbol across his little Kelpie's flesh like a brand, he marveled at how the muscles in his back twitched and trembled as the hot wax struck his skin, but he held his tongue, as requested. The Maître smiled to himself; this would certainly be his masterpiece.

As he poured the final strip of wax down the centre of his spine, Albus cried out and his back bowed as he came, the restraints clinking and clattering as his body began to shake. The Maître felt an intense wave of pleasure pulse through him at the sight of the man beneath him, his beautiful pale skin enflamed a sublime shade of pink and little beads of sweat trickling down his lean back, taut with tension and arousal. And his arse—he gave it a hard smack and Albus shivered and whimpered—primed and ready to fuck. He really was a sight to behold.

He blew out the candle and placed it carefully on the sideboard, listening patiently as Albus' breathing began to slow and even out again.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Master," slurred Albus, his expression dreamy and contented. "Thank you."

"You earned it," he replied. "Good behaviour reaps rewards. Now…" he nudged his cock against Albus' entrance again. "Are you ready for me to fuck you?"

"Yes, Master, please…" he whimpered, trying to press his hips back against the Maître's aching length. In terms of intimacy and submission, the only other thing on par to allowing the Maître to mark his skin was to get fucked by him. It would make him feel as though he really truly belonged to his Master. Branded, fucked and owned by the Maître de la Petite Mort. He could think of nothing he wanted more.

Albus let out a low, guttural moan as the Maître slid his cock inside of him then stilled, giving him a moment to catch his breath. When he withdrew on the next stroke, Albus cried out as the Maître's cock grazed against his prostate, rubbing it again on his reclaiming. A sharp spark of pleasure rushed through his pelvis and up his spine, so intense that it was almost overwhelming. The Maître gripped Albus' hips tightly and picked up speed and the pleasure intensified, spreading outwards from his groin through his whole body to the tips of his toes. He was so lost in the spiral of grunts and panting breaths and rattling chains, so lost to the exquisite pain and pleasure his Master imparted to him, everything else in the world seemed to melt away and disappear. There was only him and his Master and it was perfect.

The Maître continued to piston his hips back and forth, but he was so close now, it would only take a couple more strokes to make him come. A whimper escaped his lips and he felt his balls tighten, teetering on the edge. Gripping Albus' hips tightly he thrust his hips forward and grunted, "Good…" drew back and thrust in again, coming this time as he groaned, "Boy."

The Maître collapsed forward onto Albus' back, his head spinning. He felt his little Kelpie trembling beneath him and ran his hands covetously through his hair, down his beaten and branded back and across the globes of his perfect, perk arse.

"That's what you get when you behave," he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. As Gellert released Albus from his restraints, he turned to face Gellert and kissed him. Kissing was not something that Gellert would normally allow a submissive, but the look on Albus' face when he broke the kiss—an expression of lust, admiration, and submission—made him feel powerful and humbled to have another person look at him with such reverence. He would have to endeavour to earn it.


	6. A Tale of Two Brothers

"Well, if it isn't the big bad Wulf. I hope you're not here to blow this club down."

Albus rolled his eyes as Capra gave him a cheeky wink. Albus had come to learn that the man was an incorrigible flirt, but it was all for good fun—and tips. Albus and Capra had become quite friendly over the past few months and he had learned that Capra was very much enamoured with his boyfriend of several years and that he was working here so that they could save up enough money to buy their own place together.

"How's that boyfriend of yours, Kay? Ready to leave him and run away together yet?" Albus joked.

Capra pretended to consider the offer for a moment before he replied, "Sorry, today's not your lucky day, Wulf. The usual?"

Albus nodded and Capra poured him a snifter of Dragon Barrel Brandy. Albus slowly rotated the glass between his hands, warming the liquid inside, and then took a deep sniff. Befriending the attractive young barman had proved convenient when it had come time to restock the bar's alcohol stores, as Capra had ordered a particularly coveted vintage of the brandy for his favourite customer. Albus had been very grateful; this was definitely a significant improvement over the dusty old bottle he'd been served from when he first started coming to the club.

"So where's your darker half?" Capra asked as he dried glasses behind the bar.

"He's in the back rooms performing." At his answer, Capra's eyebrows shot up and he gave Albus a strange look.

"And you're...okay with that? Don't you get...you know...jealous?"

Albus shrugged. "A little bit, but it just makes the sex we have after that much more satisfying." Albus gave his friend a shy smile as he felt his cheeks heat up remembering the last time they'd come back from the club. Albus had spent a good chunk of the evening watching Gellert—weirdly, he only ever thought of him as "the Maître" when it was the two of them playing now—paddling an older gentleman, growing increasingly agitated as the mark he had grown to love seeing on his own skin so much emerged on the stranger's erythematous flesh.

By the evening's end, Albus was feeling practically feral and he had pounced on Gellert as soon as they'd stepped inside the man's door. Albus had thrown the other man up against the wall and had attacked his face, hands tearing at clothes. It was completely unlike most of their encounters, with Albus battling for dominance, needing to lay claim to the other man. Gellert had seemed to understand the burning need Albus was feeling, but was unwilling to cede total control to Albus; he had wrestled Albus to the ground, vanished their clothes, and before he knew what was happening, Gellert had reached behind and lined up Albus' cock with his entrance and, with a whispered lubrification spell, had sat on his cock in one fluid movement.

The burning pain of the rapid impalement must not have been unwelcome as Gellert had linked their hands together and slammed them down on the floor, just to the side of Albus' head, and had proceeded to ride Albus' cock with quick lifts and thrusts of his hips. The two had stared into each other's eyes, their faces so close that their breaths mingled, until it had become too intense and Albus had lost himself inside Gellert for the first time. It had been revelatory.

Albus shook himself out of his recollection and looked back up at Capra. "We talked about it and he really enjoys the power rush from having someone submit to him in front of an audience. That's not really one of my interests though; I prefer to keep what happens between the two of us between the two of us. As long as he doesn't hide it from me and we're honest with each other, I'm comfortable with him playing with other people here at the club."

"Well, that's...accepting of you. I don't think I could ever handle seeing my boyfriend get another guy off. Hey, speaking of which, I was thinking that we should all have dinner, if you're interested. I'd really like you to meet him."

"Oh," Albus reached up and fingered the phoenix mask he was wearing.

"If you're worried about revealing your identity, then don't worry about it. There's no pressure," Capra assured him. "But just so you know, you can trust me. I won't divulge anything I've learned about you to anyone else."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Albus cleared his throat, trying to formulate his thoughts. "I just...this just took me by surprise. I do trust you, Kay, and yes, I'd love to have dinner with you and your boyfriend. How about on Friday?"

"Friday is great!" Capra's excitement was infectious and Albus gave his friend a wide smile.

"What's happening on Friday?" A familiar voice whispered against his ear as strong hands settled on his hips, pulling him back against a very familiar body.

Albus craned his neck to look back over his shoulder, giving the man a quick kiss at the corner of his cupid's bow lips that he loved so much. "I'm having dinner with Kay," Albus could feel the fingers at his hips dig in to his flesh and he couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk that flitted across his lips, "and his boyfriend."

The fingers eased their grip and Albus grabbed the opportunity to rub his arse back against the erection he could feel teasing his behind. He was so distracted that he almost missed Gellert's next words, "Friday sounds great. How about we go to the York Minster?"

Capra's mouth was hanging open in shock and Albus whipped around to face Gellert. "You want to come with us?"

Gellert simply shrugged. "Sure, why not? Unless you don't want me there?" he asked, his gaze slowly tracking from Albus to Capra and back again.

Capra seemed to shake himself and managed to stutter out a response, "No, no. That's...that's fine. You're welcome to join us...uh…"

"Gellert. You can call me Gellert, Capra." Gellert held out his hand to Capra, who stood there staring at it in confusion. "It's customary to shake hands when meeting someone...officially," Gellert had an amused smile on his face.

Capra seemed to come to the conclusion that he found the gesture amusing and chuckled before taking the proffered hand and shaking it. "A pleasure to meet you, Gellert. We'd be happy if you joined us for dinner on Friday. The York Minster sounds perfect."

Gellert turned back to Albus and raised his eyebrows, the question unspoken. "Yeah...um… yeah. That would be… great. I would never have thought you would want to come, but I would love it if you would come with me." Albus was feeling a bubble of excitement rise up inside of him. This felt significant. So far they had spent plenty of time together, but it had exclusively been within the club or at Gellert's house. This would be their first appearance together in public. Albus was having a bit of trouble picturing Gellert in a run-of-the-mill Muggle pub—his raw charisma and personality always seeming to fill whatever space he was in—but he was delighted that Gellert had invited himself along with them.

Friday was going to be so much fun.

"Why do you look so nervous, little Kelpie?"

Albus forced himself to stop his leg twitching. "Kay's my friend, and I want to make a good impression. What if the boyfriend doesn't like me or something? And WHY do you keep calling me your little Kelpie?"

Gellert gave him an appraising look and then leaned forward across the table and took Albus's twitching fingers into his hands. "I take it you don't know much about kelpies?" At Albus' affirmative head nod, Gellert continued, "Kelpies are very powerful and dangerous magical creatures. They will lure unsuspecting people into the water and onto their backs, and then they will drag them underwater to devour them. But if a wizard can manage to place a bridle on them, they are rendered docile and harmless to their master. From that first moment in the club, when I saw that ring light up the room in the most beautiful turquoise colour I'd ever seen, I knew I wanted to tame that wild beast inside you. I'd never seen one of the rings light up a room like that before. I knew that you must be a very powerful wizard, and I wanted to be the Master of such a wealth of fierce power."

Albus felt his mouth go dry at Gellert's words, for once sounding like the truth of the pet name that he'd given Albus. Albus was tempted to grab Gellert and Apparate them out of here and stand Capra up, but before he could make the proposition, Gellert interrupted his thoughts. "So what's this dream boyfriend's name anyway?"

Albus startled at Gellert's question, realizing that he'd never actually thought to ask Capra what his boyfriend's name was. He supposed that the emphasis on anonymity at the club made it seem normal to just always refer to him as "the boyfriend". "I don't actually know. Does that make me a bad friend?"

Gellert rolled his eyes. "Honestly? It does a little bit, but here comes your chance to correct your mistake," Gellert was looking over Albus's shoulder, watching Capra and the famous boyfriend approaching their table. Albus set his Muggle brandy—which would, sadly, never compare to his preferred Dragon Barrel—down on the table and pushed himself up to greet the men.

He gave Capra a quick hug in greeting and then turned towards the other man, who he just noticed had ceased his approach several feet away. A jolt of shock froze Albus's muscles and he stood staring dumbstruck at the mysterious boyfriend he'd heard so much about. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Gellert was exchanging confused looks between the mysterious man and his lover, obviously noting that something was happening but unsure what it could possibly be.

"Is everything alright Albus?" Gellert's question floated across the air between them, their gazes locked and Albus afraid to make the first move. Fortunately he was saved from doing so by the other man breaking their silence first.

"Albus. It's...good to see you," the other man stuttered out the greeting nervously as he cleared his throat and convulsively swallowed.

Capra turned to Gellert, "Don't worry. They just haven't seen each other in a few years. They just need some time to process."

"You KNEW?!" The two voices could be heard in stereo as the two men temporarily forgot about each other and turned in outrage towards the bartender, who stared back defiantly at the two estranged siblings.

Capra ignored their outburst and took a seat at the table with Gellert. "Let's all just sit down and order drinks and then we can talk about it like the mature grown-ups I know we all strive to be."

The two men, still in shock, shuffled themselves around the table and took their respective seats beside their partners. Albus found that he couldn't look at his brother now that the initial surprise was starting to wear off, afraid that he would set off the anger that he knew his brother still harboured for him and causing him to stalk out. He couldn't believe that he found himself sitting across from his brother right now after over 4 years of being strangers to one another and he didn't want anything to mess up this gift he'd been given.

Gellert looked around the table at the mixture of tension, unease, and anger on the faces of his dinner companions and decided to try to lighten the mood. "Are any of you going to remember your manners and perform the introductions?"

He barely contained a laugh when all three men turned to him with annoyance. Gellert extended his hand across the table to Albus's brother in a proffered handshake, "I'm Gellert."

The man's gaze dropped to his hand for a brief moment, looking like he was debating between taking the offered handshake or making a break for it, and then his hand appeared from under the table and grasped Gellert's in a firm grip. "Aberforth. Aberforth Dumbledore."

Gellert shook the man's hand and expressed his pleasure to meet him, while he slid his other hand up and around Albus' thigh under the table, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He could tell that Albus was shaken and uncertain and Gellert's protective instincts were flaring, desperate to assuage his fears.

A tense silence smothered the table as the waitress came over to take their orders and they waited for their drinks to arrive. Once everyone had been served their pot-valor of choice, Aberforth turned to Capra, "Explain yourself, please, Kay."

Capra took a big breath and began relating the story. "I wasn't entirely sure, but I had a hunch. I only started getting suspicious about it last week after you were telling me that story about when you were children and Albus disturbed that Doxy nest and you both had to be rushed to St. Mungo's for an antidote. You joked that your brother has more names than sense and when you told me that one of his middle names is Wulfric and I thought it was funny that it was so similar to Wulf here's name...or should I say Albus."

Capra turned to Albus, "Remember how I was asking you last week about whether you had any siblings? Well, you didn't go into too many specifics, but what you told me seemed to fit with what I knew about Abe's siblings." Capra shrugged, "I figured that if I got you both together and my hunch was wrong, then there would be no harm done, but if my hunch was right, then maybe I can help bring some peace to someone I love and someone that I care about."

Albus gave his brother a wistful look before turning back to Capra. "I appreciate the effort Kay, but it's not that simple. My brother blames me for our sister and mother's deaths. I wasn't there when he thinks I should have been, and he's right. I wasn't there. I hope that he'll be able to forgive me when he's ready, but it can't be forced."

"You have to tell him, Abe. I understand why you were afraid to tell him the truth before, but you obviously didn't have the full picture." Capra paused and gestured across the table at Albus and Gellert. "It's not fair to him."

Albus turned his confused gaze on his brother, scanning his face for any hints to what Capra was talking about. Aberforth stared down at the table, running his finger along a wood grain in nervous agitation. Albus leaned forward in his chair, Gellert's hand slipping further up his thigh, but he was too preoccupied to even take notice of something that would normally have commanded all of his attention.

Capra brought his arm up and along the breadth of Aberforth's shoulders, rubbing a soothing pattern into his tensed shoulders. Aberforth seemed to ease at the gesture and let out a big breath. "That wasn't the reason why I cut off contact with you. I was angry with you, sure, but I wasn't there that day either, so I could hardly have held that against you without painting myself as a hypocrite. It was… it was Kay. I met Kay when I was in seventh year and he was working at the Hog's Head and I...I realized I was attracted to men and...I thought you'd hate me."

There was a protracted silence around the table and then Aberforth's head shot up at the sound of his brother's outcry. "You pillock! You mean to tell me that the reason I haven't seen my brother in four years is because you're gay?"

Aberforth bit his lower lip nervously and Capra gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, both waiting with bated breath for Albus to give his final judgement.

"Abe, even if I wasn't also a 'basket grabber' of the highest order myself," at Albus' proclamation, Gellert let out a very uncharacteristic snort of laughter, "you're my brother. I love you. How could you ever think that I would hate you?"

Albus pushed his chair back from the table and stood up abruptly, walking around the end of the table and dropping down to his knees beside his brother and pulling him into a tight hug. Aberforth was shocked immobile for a moment until he seemed to regain control of his limbs and threw them around Albus, hardly daring to believe that after so many years of angst, he finally had his big brother back.

"I thought you hated me," Albus' muffled voice came from where his head was resting against Aberforth's shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you forever."

"I could never hate you, big brother. I'm sorry that I was a coward and had so little faith in you." A hiccough of a sob escaped Aberforth and he ducked his head against Albus' shoulder, embarrassed to be making such a scene in public.

"Shall we order then?" Gellert asked, infusing the table with a renewed feeling of normality, like something monumental hadn't just occurred.

At Gellert's prompt, Albus let out a bark of ecstatic laughter and reluctantly released his brother before circling back around the table to his seat and sliding into it. Under the table, Albus reached out and took Gellert's hand, interlacing their fingers together and thanked Merlin that he had let Bathilda talk him into going to the club all those months ago. He now had everything he could imagine wanting.

He'd better start saving up for her Christmas present now.


	7. Supplementary Chapter: Eros and Psyche

_While Albus was busy exploring what the sex club had to offer, Bathilda had important business to attend to..._

Bathilda watched Albus wander in the direction of the bar before turning on her heel and beelining straight for her favourite room in the club. Although she would have been more than happy to escort Albus around the premises, she was nonetheless relieved to hear that he was confident enough to explore on his own. This meant that she was free to start playing straight away.

Marching past the Furries and Pensieve Rooms, Bathilda stopped at one of the last doors down the long, dimly-lit corridor, gave a polite knock and entered a room that resembled a French boudoir. She flashed a wide grin at the inhabitants waiting inside.

"Evening," she said brightly, closing the door behind her. A man and woman lay reclined on a large four-poster bed clad in silk, powder blue bed sheets, laced with gold embroidery. They both looked up at Bathilda as she entered and smiled. The woman slid off of the bed to greet her.

"BeeBee!" she called excitedly, pulling Bathilda into a tight hug before giving her an appreciative once-over. "We didn't think you would be here until later. Wow, you look beautiful this evening!"

"Thank you, Psyche. You look simply ravishing, as always," she crooned. Turning her attention to the man waiting patiently on the bed she winked at him, "As do you, Eros. It looks as though you've started without me."

"No, we were just keeping the bed warm while we waited for you to arrive," he assured her, patting the empty space beside him. Bathilda had met the pair who aptly named themselves Eros and Psyche a couple of years back. Not only did they have libidos to match their famous namesakes but they had taken to regularly wearing loose-fitting togas to the club, adding a certain theatrical flare that some may have sniggered at but the historian in Bathilda more than appreciated the effort. The couple in real life had first come to the club in the hopes of spicing up their sex life. Bathilda had certainly seen to that, and she had seen the fervent couple on a regular basis ever since.

The arrangement suited Bathilda—she got to fulfil her sexual fantasies with both men and women without ever having to commit to a long-term relationship with either. Bathilda loved sex, but she loved her freedom more. Fiercely independent with an insatiable sexual appetite, the club had been a godsend. A second home of sorts, she supposed.

Psyche pulled Bathilda towards the bed.

"Eros and I have missed you," she pouted, kneeling on top of the soft mattress. Bathilda stood at the edge of the bed and gently traced her fingers lightly over Psyche's bare shoulders. One thing she appreciated about the toga was how form-fitting it was around Psyche's curvy frame, her round, perk breasts pressed against the soft material of the dress, enough to show her hardened nipples. Bathilda gently teased Psyche's nipples between her thumb and forefingers, giving them a slight tug that made Psyche gasp and she thrust her hips forwards, pressing into Bathilda's.

"I've missed you too, sweetheart," she said softly, brushing her lips against Psyche's. "Let me show you how much."

Eros crawled over the bed and kneeled behind Psyche, pressing the length of his body and his erection against her. Bathilda hooked her fingers under the flimsy strap of Psyche's dress and slid it off of her shoulders. The silky material pooled around her hips, revealing her soft, supple breasts. Eros left a trail of kisses down Psyche's neck and shoulder, his hand slipping under her short dress and between her legs. Bathilda cupped Psyche's breasts and continued to tease her nipples, relishing the little moans of pleasure that escaped her lips which she muted with a deep kiss.

Psyche's hand slipped under Bathilda's dress and she felt the woman smile against her lips when she realised that Mistress BeeBee had neglected to wear any knickers this evening. Her fingers slipped between Bathilda's wet quim, gently teasing her clit in a slow, circular motion. Bathilda rocked her hips backwards and forwards into Psyche's touch, enjoying the heat blossoming from her pelvis and spreading out through her body. She loved men just as much as women, but Bathilda felt there was something incomparable to a woman's touch—perhaps because only another woman knew the depth of pleasure that she could experience. Bathilda let out a shuddering breath as Psyche slipped a finger inside of her, slowly sliding in and out as she stroked Bathilda's clit with her thumb.

Psyche broke the kiss and pressed her lips to Bathilda's ear. She whispered in a low, husky voice, "I want you to fuck me."

Bathilda grinned and stepped back, turning towards the table of toys that Psyche and Eros had laid out for them. Picking up the strap-on and slipping it over her legs, she adjusted it until it was comfortable, tapped the end of the dildo and muttered, " _Vibratio_ ," and it began to vibrate gently, sending pleasant shivers through Bathilda's groin and up her spine. Turning back to face the bed she took a moment to appreciate the sight before her. Eros had disrobed completely now, kneeling on the bed with his head lolled back as Psyche rested on her hands and knees while Eros thrust his member in and out of her mouth. She had pulled her skirt up for Bathilda to reveal a perfect, perk bottom clad in gold, silk bloomers. She gave her bottom a slight wiggle in invitation to her.

Bathilda mounted the bed, she slowly peeled Psyche's knickers down passed her hips, letting them fall at her knees. She ran her hands over the globes of Psyche's arse before giving it a light, appreciative squeeze. Lining her dildo at Psyche's entrance, she carefully pressed forwards, slowly sinking into her. Psyche groaned and thrust her hips back, encouraging Bathilda to move faster. Bathilda gladly obliged, rolling her hips backwards and forwards, she closed her eyes and relished the pants and moans spilling from her lovers' mouths. With every forward thrust the intensity of the vibration increased, pressing against Bathilda's clit. If she kept doing this it wouldn't take long for her to come. Eros reached out and grabbed Bathilda's hand and her eyes flew open. His eyes were half-lidded with arousal, but through his lust-filled haze was a look of a man that knew what he wanted.

"My turn," he breathed. Bathilda nodded in understanding and carefully removed the dildo from Psyche. Psyche crawled forward on her hands and knees, her arse up in the air waiting patiently for Eros to get into position. He crawled between Psyche and Bathilda, pressed his throbbing cock at Psyche's entrance and easily sank into her. Psyche let out a low groan and she leaned back against Eros until he filled her entirely. Breathing heavily, Eros paused and waited for Bathilda to ready herself. Casting a wordless lubrication spell she lathered the dildo and Eros' breach with lube before lining up at his entrance. Holding onto his hips tightly, she pressed forwards, meeting slightly more resistance from Eros than Psyche and he hissed as the dildo pushed past the tight ring of muscles. They stayed like that for a few moments, connected to one another and trying to steady their breathing before they continued. When Eros was ready he gave a curt nod and Bathilda began to thrust in and out of him to the same rhythm as he moved in and out of Psyche; back and forth, in and out in one fluid movement, the three bodies moving as one. Bathilda grabbed her wand and murmured, " _Vibratio fortis,"_ and the intensity of the dildo's vibration increased. Eros whimpered and his eyelids fluttered and closed, his mouth slack, totally lost in the dual sensation of fucking Psyche and Bathilda fucking him.

Bathilda felt the tingling warmth spread through her abdomen as she edged closer and closer to orgasm. She began to piston her hips with greater fervour, the vibration of the strap-on dildo stimulating her own clit. Her breaths were coming out in short, sharp bursts now, her head swimming with the overwhelming sounds and sights and feelings; Eros and Psyche writhing and moaning with pleasure... it was all too much. She dug her fingers into Eros' hips and she cried out as she came, allowing herself to be consumed entirely in a tidal wave of pleasure pulsing through her whole body.

Bathilda rode the crest of her own orgasm and continued to roll her hips causing Eros to gasp and groan every time the dildo stroked his prostate. She could tell Psyche was close to orgasm too as her legs began to tremble and her movements became increasingly erratic, thrusting back harder and faster against Eros' cock. Eros leaned forward and began to tease her clit with his fingers while continuing to fuck her, pumping back and forth as the slick, wet sounds, pants and grunts crescendoed and Psyche climaxed, groaning loudly. This was enough to push Eros over the edge and he let out a strangled cry as he came, throwing his head back far enough for Bathilda to crush their lips together in a searing kiss.

The trio lay in bed afterwards, arms and legs tangled together. Bathilda lay in the centre, enjoying the post-coital corona as Eros and Psyche cuddled into her. She could easily have fallen asleep with the couple languidly kissing and stroking her. It was as relaxing as it was pleasant, but she had other matters to attend to this evening. Giving them both a light kiss on the lips, she wriggled out of their embrace and started to get redressed. Psyche propped herself up on her elbows and watched her lace up her bustier with interest.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked, a note of disappointment in her voice. Bathilda smiled at them both.

"I'm afraid so, sweetheart," she sighed. "But I'll see you both again next weekend, yeah?"

She blew them a kiss and they waved her off for another evening. Bathilda made her way back down the corridor in the direction of the bar, a definite spring in her step. She really did love this club and all the wondrous delights it had to offer. She opened the door at the far end of the corridor and poked her head out, scanning the dance floor and seating area for Albus. She clocked his distinctive auburn hair quickly and saw him sitting up at the bar talking to a tall blonde gentleman. Bathilda smiled to herself. It looked as though he was enjoying himself. She considered for a moment going up to the bar to get a better look at the mystery man who had caught Albus' eye, but thought better of it—better leave him to take things at his own pace.

Retreating back into the long corridor, Bathilda weighed up her options. The night was still young and it looked as though Albus would be occupied at the bar for a while...

She rummaged through her purse just to be sure she had brought it with her. She pulled out her anal plug with the fluffy crup tail attached and grinned. She could definitely squeeze in a little animal play before leaving this evening. She hurried down the corridor and pushed open one of the doors to be met with a chorus of yips, barks and howls. Slipping into the room, she greeted the inhabitants warmly.

"Who wants a belly rub?"


	8. Supplementary Chapter: Head at Hogs Head

_Aberforth and Capra have finally managed to make their dream come true and have purchased the Hog's Head Inn. This is a perfect occasion to celebrate and "break the place in"..._

"I just need your signature on this last page, Mr. Dumbledore, and then we're all done."

Aberforth dipped the quill he was holding into the inkpot and then bent over the contract laid out in front of him at the wooden table. He scrawled his practically illegible signature on the line at the bottom of the page. As he waited for the ink to dry, he looked over at Capra's signature beside his on the formal document, as neat and orderly as his was illegible, and he was struck with a moment of disbelief that this moment had finally arrived.

They had both been working themselves ragged for years, holding down multiple jobs, and scrimping and saving every spare knut that they could to scrape together enough galleons for the deposit on the Inn. Now that it was time to sign the papers, Aberforth couldn't believe that they had finally done it. The place was finally theirs.

The real estate agent rolled up the contract, tucked it into his mokeskin pouch, and pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. "That is everything, gentlemen. Congratulations on your new business venture."

"Thank you for all your help. I hope you'll stop by once we're open. Your first drink is on us." Aberforth escorted the agent to the front door of the Inn and saw him out. He closed the door gently behind the man, engaged the lock, and pulled out his wand, waving it at the windows and causing the blinds to unroll and cut off the view of the thinning crowds walking around Hogsmeade in the early evening darkness. Aberforth cast a small _Incendio_ at the banked fire in the fireplace to chase away the slight chill that had permeated the room.

The sound of a trilling bell alighted from behind him and Aberforth turned towards the bar, where Capra was standing by the wooden till, his wand in his hand and the money drawer extended out. Capra gave Aberforth a cheeky grin and then reached into his robes and pulled out a coin. He stared at Albus as he purposefully dropped the solitary coin into the till, "Our first knut. I think that calls for a celebration, don't you?"

Aberforth stalked across the room and rounded the bar, striding up to Capra and pinning him against the wooden bar. Aberforth leaned in, their faces a breath away from each other, but he prolonged the moment—teased him with the promise of lips and tongues and the warm press of skin.

Aberforth waited, their breaths mingled, until Capra relented and leaned forward, bringing their lips together in a soft brush...a request. Aberforth struck, pulling Capra's body up against his own and smashing their lips together. Their tongues gambolled against one another, retreated from one mouth and advanced into the other, and Aberforth let out a guttural groan into the hot cavern of Capra's mouth.

Aberforth didn't break the union of their mouths as his hands scrabbled to the front of Capra's trousers. His fingers felt clumsy and fumbling as he struggled to release the fasteners on the fly of the trousers and thread the tiny buttons through the eyeholes of the braces. Finally, after what felt like a century, he managed to remove all the impedimenta and pulled his mouth away from the kiss and dropped down, yanking Capra's trousers and pants down to his ankles.

Aberforth stood slowly, letting his fingertips brush up the side of Capra's calves, slide over to the back of his knees, and up around the back of his thighs. Without warning, he grabbed hold of Capra's legs and lifted him and pushed him back so that he was sitting on the wooden bar prep area.

"Ugh! It's sticky!" Capra squirmed, his cheeks making a peeling sound as they pulled away from the tacky surface.

Aberforth chuckled. "I'll be sure to add bar cloths to the list." Aberforth dragged his hands around to Capra's lap, taking the member into his hands and stroking it slowly as it began to engorge. "In the meantime, maybe I can help distract you?"

Capra gave him a warm smile, brought his hand up, and ran his fingers through Aberforth's hair and around to the back of his neck. Capra guided Aberforth's head down to his lap as he leaned back against the bar. Aberforth gave Capra's soft flesh, resting against his muscled thighs, a firm lick from tip to base and relished the salty taste of his lover burst on his tongue. Returning to the tip, Aberforth took Capra's cock in his mouth; as much as he loved this cock when it was rigid and primed to blow, he also loved these moments when he could take the whole of Capra's dick into his mouth. He rolled his tongue around the flesh and savoured the feeling of his attentions causing the cock to expand and fill his mouth.

Aberforth sucked on Capra's expanding flesh while he pushed his lover's legs wider, giving him more access. He scraped his fingernails up the tender inside of Capra's thighs and took the testicles in one hand, manoeuvering the globes around in the rumpled flesh, while his other hand grasped the base of Capra's rapidly firming cock.

"Fuck, Abe...you're so good at that," Capra's groan sent a thrill of satisfaction through Aberforth. Capra's grip on the back of his neck tightened and released as he encouraged Aberforth to move, to fuck him with his mouth—a demand which Aberforth was more than happy to comply with.

Aberforth bobbed his head on Capra's leaking cock and sucked as hard as he could, hollowing out his cheeks and pulling a deep groan from the man above him. Aberforth could sense that his lover was close and gave his balls a quick tug, knowing that it would drive Capra wild.

He was not disappointed, as the strong hand suddenly disappeared from his neck and Capra's body leaned back further. Aberforth braced himself for what he knew was coming and he groaned as Capra lifted his pelvis, fucking into Aberforth's wet heat.

"I'm"— _thrust_ —"going"— _thrust_ —"to"— _thrust_ —"come!" Aberforth hummed his approval at the declaration and the vibration coursing through his cock was all that Capra needed as he lost control. Aberforth swallowed repeatedly as his mouth was filled with Capra's bitter essence. He let his vigorous draws diminish to soft swipes of his tongue against the exhausted flesh, clearing the residual seed, before he slowly withdrew, letting the spent cock slip out from between his plump lips.

"That was amazing," Capra sat up and leaned forward, pulling Aberforth in for a probing kiss. He could taste himself on Aberforth's tongue and thought that he had never tasted anything more delicious. "Mmmm...your turn, beautiful. What can I get you?"

Aberforth chuckled at Capra's question. "Hopefully nothing that will be on the menu when we open for business."

Capra let out a burst of laughter and pulled Aberforth in for another kiss before he leaped down from the bar and a loud cleaving sound tore through the Inn.

"Shit! That hurt!" Capra and Aberforth laughed in unison as Capra massaged his stinging arse. Capra smiled at Aberforth and wound his arms around his waist, "So, what are you in the mood for tonight, love? Would you like to fuck my ass, or my mouth?"

All the humour evaporated from Aberforth's brain and his need to come, which had eased slightly in the last few minutes, came rushing back to him and he felt his cock jerk in anticipation. "Hmmm...both of those options sound pretty appetizing. Why don't you surprise me?"

Capra gave him a devilish grin and brought his hands around to loosen the fastenings on Aberforth's trousers. Aberforth reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt, but Capra stayed his hands. "Leave it on, love. I'm going to bend you over that bar." A shiver of anticipation trickled down Aberforth's spine and he let him finish unfastening his trousers. Capra gave him one final peck on the lips and then spun him around, with two firm hands on his hip bones, and pushed him down so that he was bent over across the bar.

Capra teased him, ever-so-slowly, sliding first his trousers and then his pants down his legs, and Aberforth would swear that he could feel the material brushing against each individual follicle of hair on his legs. Capra replaced the fabric with the soft skin of his hands, running them up along the globes of his arse before he ran a finger down along the outside of his crease, barely parting the cheeks at all.

"Please..." Aberforth thought he would implode with desire and need soon if Capra didn't ease his suffering desire.

"Mmmm...it's so sexy when you beg for me to take you, love." Capra's voice oozed satisfaction as he bent forward over Aberforth and brushed his lips against the nape of his neck, just under the collar of his shirt, before he pulled back.

Aberforth felt a surge of loss as Capra stood; he already missed the warm press of that beloved body against his, but before the disappointment could grow too large, he heard a rustle of movement behind him and his cheeks were being pulled apart and a hot, wet sensation flitted over his puckered entrance.

"Merlin's balls!" Aberforth's cock pulsed with excitement as Capra swirled his tongue around Aberforth's entrance and then retracted slightly and blew a stream of cool air across the wet skin, sending gooseflesh erupting all over Aberforth's skin. Aberforth reached down and took his weeping cock in his fist, stroking his hand up and down his own length in a steady rhythm.

Capra spent long minutes tracing his tongue around Aberforth's entrance before he pushed the tip through the muscle and probed his tongue along Aberforth's inside walls. Aberforth sped up his strokes on his cock as his knees began to shake. Capra slipped his thumbs down and pressed insistently on the sensitive skin of his perineum and Aberforth groaned as he felt his hole wink in response. His orgasm barrelled into him without warning and come shot out from within his tight fist and splattered the wooden cabinet front of the bar.

Capra retracted his tongue and circled a thumb around Aberforth's fluttering hole as he descended from the apex of his orgasm. Capra gave Aberforth's cheek a playful nip that elicited a squeak of surprise from Aberforth before he stood up, pulling Aberforth's pants and trousers up as he did.

Capra slid his arms under Aberforth's torso and lifted him up from the bar and settled him back against his chest, his chin rested on Aberforth's shoulder.

"We'd better make sure we buy extra barcloths," Capra joked, and the two men chuckled as they stood wrapped in each other's arms, standing in their future.


	9. Supplementary Chapter: Of a Sound Mind

Albus cast a glance up and down the street and, when he was certain that there was nobody paying attention to him, he discretely pulled out his wand and tapped it against the deep blue door in front of him. A self-content smile pulled at his face that Gellert had configured the lock to respond to his magical signature.

Albus lowered the hood of his wool cloak and gave it a shake, dislodging the beads of raindrops before he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the flat. Albus unbuttoned the fastener at his neck and slid the cloak off of his shoulders. He was just reaching to hang the cloak up on the coat rack when he felt strong hands encircle his waist and pull him back against a firm, trim body. Albus couldn't stop the shiver that cascaded down his spine at the feel of the warm breath on the back of his neck, soft lips just barely grazing his skin.

"There's my little Kelpie. You're late," Gellert's voice was a whispered rebuke and Albus wondered if there was a decadent punishment in his near future.

"Mmm," Albus affirmed. "Headmaster Black called a last minute staff meeting that I couldn't get out of. Are you going to punish me, Master?" Albus could hear the hopefulness in his own tone.

Gellert let out a low chuckle, "You're not supposed to sound quite so keen to be punished, little Kelpie." Gellert trailed his nose up Albus' neck and around the back of his ear, then took the lobe into his mouth, giving it a little suck. Albus pressed his arse back into Gellert's lap for a moment, until Gellert's hands slid back to encircle his hips and still his movement. "Not tonight. I have other plans for you tonight."

Gellert suddenly withdrew and Albus stumbled briefly before he regained his balance. He finished hanging the cloak up and then turned and followed Gellert down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. "Mmmm, something smells heavenly in here," Albus took in a deep breath and savoured the rich, spicy aromas.

"First up on this evening's agenda is this lamb curry." Gellert scooped two bowls of the spicy meat sauce over rice and carried them over to the dining table. Albus took a seat at the table and pulled the dish toward himself, only now realizing that he had neglected to eat lunch today since he had stayed late after one of his classes to give extra guidance to one of his students who had been struggling with the lesson that day.

Albus lifted a spoonful of the curry and rice up to his mouth and moaned when the food touched his tongue, the spicy flavour tasted divine. He looked up to see Gellert staring at him, his utensils still resting on the table, forgotten. Albus quickly chewed and swallowed the mouthful of food and was just about to open his mouth to apologize for his lack of manners when Gellert beat him to it, "Don't apologize. I'm glad you're enjoying it." Gellert gave him a tiny, fond smile and then picked up his spoon and tucked in to his own food.

The two men spoke of light topics as they finished their meal, catching up on what had been happening in their lives in the few days since they had last been together. When they were done, Albus gathered their plates, placed them in the sink, and started a cleaning charm on them. "So...what's next on the agenda?" Albus asked, turning around to face Gellert and leaning back against the counter.

Gellert stalked up to him and placed his hands on either side of Albus' hips, on the edge of the counter, and leaned in, invading Albus's personal space. Albus took a deep breath, enjoying the bay rum scent of his aftershave. Gellert slowly reached up and pushed Albus' long hair back and over one shoulder before he traced two fingers down his throat and brought them to rest against the flutter there. Albus licked his lips in anticipation; they had been doing this together for almost two years now, but Gellert still held the power to make Albus' heart race in his presence.

Gellert trailed his eyes from Albus' neck up, getting snagged briefly on his now-moist lips, before finally meeting Albus' dilated gaze. "Next on the agenda is a nice, hot bath. I need you relaxed for the pièce de résistance of our evening." Gellert let his hand fall away and reached out and grasped Albus' hand. "Come."

Albus was not only powerless to resist, but was desireless to resist as well.

Gellert led him up the stairs and into the bathroom, where the large, cast iron clawfoot tub was sitting under a stasis charm, steam rising up off the surface of the water and appearing to hit an invisible bubble encompassing the entire tub. Gellert instructed Albus to remove his clothes, which he promptly did, as Gellert knelt down, rolled his sleeves up to above his elbows, and ran his fingers through the water, testing the temperature. When Albus stood naked in the chilly room, Gellert gestured for him to approach and steadied him as Albus stepped over the edge and settled against the porcelain lining of the large tub. A contented sigh escaped his lips as he felt the warm water ease tension he hadn't even been aware of, and he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

He could hear the water sloshing against the sides of the tub and something brushed his leg briefly, and then Gellert was pouring a stream of water over his head. When his auburn hair was fully saturated, Gellert set the pitcher down on the bathroom floor and picked up the bar of soap. Gellert rubbed the bar between his hands, working up a lather, before setting it aside and running his hands over Albus' sodden locks. Gellert spent several minutes running his fingers through Albus's thick strands, spreading the suds evenly over the entire length, and gently massaging Albus's scalp. Albus remained seated with his head tipped back and eyes closed, entrusting himself entirely to Gellert's ministrations and sighing in contentment every so often.

Finally, Gellert was satisfied and he pressed down on Albus' shoulder softly. Albus sunk down further into the bath and let his knees pop up out of the water so that he could submerge his hair underneath. Gellert ran his fingers through the silky, floating strands, cleaning off all of the soap. He smiled at the thought that his Kelpie nickname fit him perfectly; as Albus' long mane of hair swirled softly with the water currents, Gellert could almost believe that the hair did, in fact, belong to one of the majestic beasts.

Gellert finished rinsing off Albus' hair and then had him sit up once again. He then proceeded to methodically wash Albus' skin, starting from his neck and moving down, his arms sinking beneath the hot water and stroking Albus' soft skin. Gellert continued down Albus' body, thoroughly cleaning his cock, balls, and arse, but not lingering—to Albus' disappointment—until he'd finished washing between each toe. "You're not falling asleep on me, are you."

"Mmmm," a sedate moan was all Albus could manage. He wasn't sure that he had ever felt this relaxed; his individual limbs felt detached and apart from himself and he had to focus on them to initiate any movement.

"Come on. Up. I think you're relaxed enough now." Gellert stood up and grabbed a large, fluffy towel from the hook on the wall and then returned back to the bath, holding the towel up and extended to wrap around Albus. Albus gathered himself and stood up, using the sides of the tub to push himself out of the still-warm water. There was a moment of frigid chill, and then Gellert wrapped the towel around Albus' body and helped him out of the tub. Gellert toweled Albus down then removed his wand and cast a drying spell at the towel before transfiguring it into a thick terrycloth robe, which he slid over Albus' arms and tied closed.

He led a docile Albus out of the bathroom and across the hall into his bedroom, sitting him down on the chest at the end of the bed. Gellert then carefully gathered Albus' damp hair behind his back, Accio'd an ornate silver comb from the top of his dresser, and combed the hair out, carefully working out all of the knots.

Finished, Gellert stepped back and hovered the comb back over to the dresser. "Are you ready, Little Kelpie?" Albus opened his eyes and nodded, not looking away from Gellert. "Very good. Take the robe off and lay down on the bed, on your back," Gellert's voice slid down an octave, taking on the authoritative timbre of the Maître.

Albus visibly swallowed before following the instructions that Gellert had set him. Gellert turned away and slid open the top drawer of his dresser, reached in, and removed a leather pouch and a small jar. He turned around and walked towards the bed, where Albus was lying stretched out, legs spread open—it was quite the sight, but not quite what he had in mind for tonight. "Put your legs together." Albus brought his legs together and Gellert climbed onto the bed from the foot, crawling up Albus' legs until he could seat himself on Albus' softly haired thighs.

Albus watched him anxiously, his head resting against the piled pillows, damp hair spread out across them. Gellert let the silence stretch, letting Albus' anticipation grow; Albus' penis was beginning to firm up, twitching occasionally against his thigh where it rested as Gellert stared down at Albus.

When he thought that Albus had suffered enough, Gellert reached down and picked up the pouch that he had placed on the bed beside his knee. He took his time untying the knot that was wrapped around the pouch, then unfolded it, lifted the flap, and held the package up in front of him so that Albus could see what was inside. "Do you know what these are, Little Kelpie?"

Albus' eyes flared for a moment, but he gave a curt shake of his head, "No, Master."

"We're going to try something new today. These are called 'sounds'. They are smooth rods of solid metal that you will be inserting into your urethra." As he spoke, Gellert removed the thinnest rod from the pouch and held it up for Albus to see. One end of the sound had a very slight bend in it, while the rest of the rod was straight. Gellert handed the sound over to Albus so that he could inspect it.

"Will it hurt...you know...when you...insert it?" Albus' voice quavered a bit with uncertainty.

Gellert decided to let the lapse in proper address slide, as Albus seemed particularly nervous about this new activity for them. "It won't be me inserting it." Frightened, shocked eyes shot from the thin rod to meet Gellert's and he looked like he was about to argue, but Gellert cut off his protestations. "At least this first time, you will be inserting it yourself. It will allow you to get comfortable with the feeling, and learn to know what to expect. It's safer for you to be in control for this first time. Once you've become more comfortable with the sensations, you will be able to direct me in what feels best for you."

Albus bit his lip nervously and spun the wand between his thumb and forefinger. "What if...what if I don't like it?" Albus practically whispered.

Gellert reached forward and took Albus' hand in his, stilling the nervous movement. He waited until Albus met his gaze before he spoke again, "We'll try it, and if you don't like it, then we don't have to do it again. Just like with everything else, the decision is yours."

Gellert turned Albus' hand palm down and circled the gem set into the ring on Albus' finger, which had been shining a murky yellow. Gellert waited patiently for Albus to settle, watching with interest as the ring's colour drifted back towards green. The ring's colour settled into a pale green and Albus took a fortifying breath. "Ho-how do I…?"

"Don't worry. I'll be right here. I'll walk you through what to do," Gellert assured him, stroking Albus' torso from chest to thigh and back, easing the tension that had creeped back into his body since the bath.

"Have you...you know...ever…" Albus' question trailed off and his cheeks flushed a tantalizing rosy colour.

"Have I ever what, Little Kelpie?" Gellert wanted to push Albus to overcome his discomfort and explicitly ask his question.

Albus cleared his throat and retried, "Have you ever...put a sound in-in your own penis?"

The flush of embarrassment on Albus's face and neck was such a delectable sight that he could feel his cock filling. He gave Albus a smirk as he openly readjusted his prick inside the tight confines of his stretched trousers. "Of course, my Little Kelpie. I have never done anything to you that I haven't had done to myself before." Gellert felt another glow of satisfaction as Albus' pupils dilated even further, obviously imagining Gellert on the receiving end of some of the many experiences they had explored together. "What else would you like to know?" Gellert asked kindly.

Albus cleared his throat and then appeared to steel himself. When he spoke again, he no longer stuttered out the questions, "Does it hurt?"

"For some people it can hurt a bit, but mostly it just feels a bit odd. Once it's inserted and you get used to the feeling, you can stroke your dick slowly and the squeezing of the urethra from outside onto the sound can cause a bit of pain, but nothing more extreme than some of the other things we've tried and you've enjoyed. You may also experience a bit of a burning sensation when you urinate for a few hours or even days after, but it's nothing to worry about as long as you don't develop a fever or discharge."

Albus looked nervous, and the glow of his ring dulled slightly, but it was still a pale green. "Do I have to be...hard?" Albus cast a look down at his penis, which was definitely closer to flaccid than erect at the moment.

"Don't worry about that. This activity works either way. Sometimes you may lose an erection while sounding, and sometime you may start soft and become erect during." Gellert reached out and took Albus' cock in his hand, giving it a few quick strokes and enjoyed the feeling of the flesh firming up in his hand. Albus' reactions to him always seemed very immediate and instinctual. "Do you have any other questions?"

Albus licked his lips and gave a short shake of his head, "N-no, I'm ready."

"That's excellent. You're so brave, my little Kelpie." Gellert held his hand out for the sound that Albus was holding, and he handed it back. Gellert slid the sound back into the leather pouch and picked up the small jar of specially formulated lube and unscrewed it. "First, I'm going to place some of this lubrication on your slit."

Gellert scooped his fingertip into the jar and then brought it to the slit of Albus' penis, which he held aloft with the foreskin retracted. After encompassing the edge of the slit with the gel and making sure a generous supply of the gel was pushed inside as far as possible, Gellert indicated that Albus should take over and grasp his own penis.

Gellert reached down and removed the second smallest sound and noticed Albus' breathing speed up. "It's easiest to start small, but not with the smallest size. Too small, and the end may scrape the inside of your urethra. This one is small enough that you shouldn't feel too much stretching, but thick enough that it won't shift around as much," Gellert assured him. He waited a moment, letting Albus calm himself down, and then Albus nodded for him to proceed.

Gellert gathered some more of the lube and smeared it over the end of the sound, making sure there was a liberal layer. When he was satisfied, he held the sound out for Albus to take, which he did, then Gellert began giving him instructions, "Insert the tip of the sound into the end of your penis until it's just barely inserted. Then don't push on the sound, but rather just let gravity push it down further until it goes as far as it wants to."

Gellert stroked himself slowly through his trousers as he watched Albus follow his instructions. Albus' breaths were huffing in and out of him and he had his eyes peeled open and watching his cock with total focus as the sound slowly sank down and disappeared inside his slit. Gellert could tell that Albus was still a little afraid, but the ring was slowly beginning to brighten, moving more steadily towards the green spectrum. Gellert groaned as his cock lurched; the fact that Albus was willing to be so brave and face his fears because he knew it would make Gellert happy was the best kind of aphrodisiac. Albus' eyes were torn away from his cock at the sound of Gellert's groan and they skimmed up and down Gellert's body for a moment, assessing, and then he gave Gellert a small, shy smile. Albus knew that he, too, held a tremendous power over Gellert's body.

Once the sound seemed to come to a stop, Gellert told Albus to wait a few moments and see whether he became accustomed to the sensation of having his urethra filled. While they waited, Gellert used the opportunity to unbuckle his trousers and slide the material down his legs as far as it would go. Gellert reached into his pants and lifted his cock and balls out, tucking the elastic waist of the pants behind his sack, putting himself on display to Albus, who watched him with greedy eyes. Gellert stroked himself slowly, his cock gradually filling, until Albus seemed to have become so engrossed in his performance that he had forgotten his previous discomfort and his cock had begun to firm up, climbing up and encompassing more of the sound.

"Fuck yourself with it, but make sure to do it very slowly," Gellert demanded in the deep, insistent voice of the Maître.

Albus nodded his head vigorously and then reluctantly pulled his eyes away from Gellert and back to his cock. The moments stretched out as Albus slowly pulled the metal rod out an inch or so and then gently pushed it back in once again. He sucked air in through his clenched teeth at the sensation, his cock tingling from the foreign sensation. There was a little discomfort, but Albus found that he liked the slight burning sensation inside this newly explored area of his body. After a few more thrusts, Gellert reapplied more of the lube to the rod and it slid freely in and out. Albus's cock had steadily been filling and he could feel the creeping sensation of needing to come start to blossom out from his groin.

Gellert continued to watch Albus fuck himself with the sound, stroking his gorgeous cock as he watched the metal instrument appear and disappear at an agonizing pace. "Talk to me. Tell me how it feels, Little Kelpie."

Albus thought he would combust from the intense look in Gellert's eyes. Albus continued the rhythmic penetration of his penis as Gellert stared possessively at him. "It feels... _ungh_...feels amazing," Albus groaned.

Gellert slowed his strokes, reached out with his other hand and took Albus's cock in hand, pinched gently between his thumb and forefinger. Gellert stroked Albus' cock a few times up and down, putting just a hint of pressure, and Albus' back arched at the glorious burning sensation, the need to come pulsing through him. Letting go of his own cock, Gellert took hold of the sound and slowly lifted it until it slid free. Gellert tossed the sound down on the bed and then took Albus' cock firmly in hand and pumped it rapidly up and down, and before Albus could corral his thoughts, he was coming, his semen shooting out of him with a residual burning sensation and over his abdomen.

Gellert held him through his release until his cock stopped spurting and began to feel oversensitive, and then he turned his attention back to his own cock. Gellert whipped his hand quickly over the taut flesh with one hand and reached down to tug on his testicles with the other. He began to thrust his hips forward, easing up off of Albus' thighs, fucking into his own fist. Albus watched, still languorous from his orgasm, until finally Gellert threw his head back and came, come lashing out and mixing with Albus' across his muscled abdomen.

Gellert's head fell forward and he stared at Albus as he gave his cock one final stroke, squeezing the head and gathering the residual come from his own slit. Albus watched as he sucked the fingers one-by-one into his mouth, licking off the sticky come. Gellert gave him an evil grin and then he was bending forward over Albus, his tongue licking up the mess of their combined eruptions, sucking it all up. Then he was crawling up Albus' body and they were kissing, the bitter taste of their come washing back and forth between their mouths as they kissed deeply.

Gellert pulled back and they both swallowed down the shared loads, then Gellert fell to the side and laid down beside Albus on the bed, one arm thrown back behind his head, propping it up. "Did you enjoy that, little Kelpie?"

"Mmmm, that was definitely a 'sound' idea you had," Albus grinned when he heard Gellert unwillingly snort at his terrible pun. They would definitely be doing this again.


	10. Supplementary Chapter: Give a Figging

Gellert and Albus walked up the steps to Gellert's flat and Albus took a moment to breathe in the cool, crisp night air. This summer had been torturously hot, and the only time of day that felt like it was suitable for human life was now, when the sun had set and the deep chill of night had settled in. Albus opened his eyes once again to see that Gellert had opened the door and was now standing just inside, holding the door open for him.

Albus stepped in and had barely closed the door when he was slammed back against it, Gellert's body pressing in against his own, pinning him, and Albus felt his heart kick up a beat. Gellert rubbed the tip of his nose up along Albus', his hot breath brushing over Albus' face, as his hands traced their way from his shoulders down his arms, over his elbows, until his fingers encircled Albus' wrists. Gellert pulled on Albus' wrists, lifting his arms up until they were above his head, where he held them pressed against the door frame.

"You looked like you were having fun at the club tonight, my little Kelpie," Gellert's husky growl was spoken directly into Albus' ear. Albus licked his lips and nodded before Gellert continued, "Do you know what I spent the evening doing?"

Gellert transferred both of Albus' wrists into one hand and slid the other down Albus' arm and around to encircle Albus' neck loosely, his fingertips just barely grazing the back of Albus' jawbone. "I spent the evening watching you rub that fine arse of yours against all those other men."

Albus inhaled quickly through his nose at the possessive tone in Gellert's voice. Albus had known that it would slowly drive Gellert mad, watching Albus dance and flirt with the other male patrons of the club, and he had been anticipating receiving his "punishment" for _hours_ now. "I'm sorry, Master," a shiver rushed through Albus at the familiar moniker. Albus loved when they role-played like this; loved feeling at the mercy of the other man's whims.

Gellert used his grip on Albus' neck to turn his head to the side and then he took Albus' earlobe into his mouth, biting down on it incrementally until his nerve endings started screaming with the sensation before he finally released the abused flesh. Albus could feel the hot breath brushing over the residual wetness as Gellert spoke quietly into his ear, "You'll have to earn my forgiveness, little Kelpie. Are you ready for your punishment?"

Gellert followed his question with a subtle squeeze and Albus' eyes rolled back as his breathing became restricted briefly, before Gellert released his hold once more. Albus could feel his cock start to fill in anticipation and he licked his lips before he replied, "Y-yes, Sir."

Gellert disengaged from him so quickly that Albus stumbled forward briefly, confused. "Go wait for me upstairs," Gellert's voice was cold and hard and Albus's mouth went dry in a Pavlovian response to the authoritative tone. "I'll expect you to be naked and bent over the footboard of the bed."

Without further ado, Gellert turned on his heel and strode away down the hallway, in the direction of the kitchen. Albus shook himself and then scrambled up the stairs, yanking on the knot of his tie in his rush to remove his clothes. Albus rushed into the bedroom and gave up on the tie, resorting to yanking the obstinate thing over his head instead. His fingers stuttered over the buttons of his shirt in his excitement, and he muttered a groaned " _thank fuck_ " as he finally pulled the two halves apart and shed the fabric, which was still damp from the humid club earlier. He pulled open his trousers and stripped them down, along with his pants, only to be thwarted by his shoes which he had neglected to remove. Bending over, he ripped at the knotted shoelaces and kicked the blasted things off, finally able to fully remove his trousers and pants. He hopped first on one foot, then on the other, as he stripped off his socks, the final lick of clothing that adorned him, and then he was finally naked as instructed. He hurried over to the end of the bed and folded his body over the wooden footboard there, mentally recounting the numerous times Gellert had bound him there and dealt out sweet torture.

Albus stood patiently, bent over and propping his upper body up by the arms, as he waited for Gellert to enter the room. He looked down at the ring that encircled the middle finger on his right hand and got lost in the hypnotic lights, bright green merging into blue and swirling around as if a school of iridescent fish were swimming within it, swaying back and forth.

Albus had become so entranced with the ring's swirling that he almost missed the quiet creak of the door opening and Gellert's soft footsteps, and startled when he felt soft fingertips skim over his skin, tracing a path down his spine.

"Very good, my little Kelpie. This is a good start." Gellert slid his fingers back up Albus' spine as he circled around to the side of the bed. A sharp, spicy scent wafted over to Albus and he took a deep breath, pulling as much of the mouth-watering aroma into his lungs as he could while Gellert sat down on the edge of the bed beside where he was leaning. "You know what this is, yes?"

Albus kept his eyes cast down at the bedspread, maintaining the subservient attitude that he knew Gellert took pleasure from, "Ginger, sir." Unfortunately he was not so successful at controlling his tone, and he was pretty sure that the sarcastic tone would not go unnoticed by Gellert.

His suspicions were confirmed when Gellert leaned back and the next moment his hand came down in a sharp slap on one of his arse cheeks that sent him rocking forward. "Don't get cheeky," Albus thought he could hear a faint smile in Gellert's rebuke. "Yes, obviously this is ginger, but do you know what I plan to do with it?"

Gellert held the root in front of Albus so he could see it. The root was about five inches long, with the last three or so inches peeled. The tip of the root was rounded and it gradually tapered down to a notch that was carved near the base of the shaved section. The remaining two inches remained unpeeled and were curved to the side. Albus didn't think he'd ever been quite so confused—he had a pretty good idea of what Gellert had in mind, but he had no context for _why_ he would want to do that.

Gellert chuckled, "You're no fool, so I assume you know _what_ is about to happen, but I would guess you're trying to work out the _why?"_

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going to insert this into your rectum, and then I'm going to spank that sexy arse of yours for a few minutes until you've started to squirm for me. Then I'm going to take out my cane," Albus sucked in a sharp breath at this, and Gellert continued, "and I'm going to remind you who that sweet arse belongs to. The ginger is going to start out as a pleasant tingling sensation, but once you start squeezing your muscles down on it, it's going to turn into a burning sensation. That burn is going to keep growing and growing until you're going to be forced to choose between clenching to avoid the pain of the cane, or taking the full impact of the cane to ease the burn."

A nervous sweat broke out across Albus' forehead at the thought of what was about to happen to him, and he felt the flutter of fear in his stomach. Gellert sat quietly and waited while Albus worked through the overwhelming emotions that were washing through him. Albus knew that he was scared, but he also knew that he trusted Gellert to never push him past the limits of what he could handle, and after several minutes, Gellert leaned forward and pressed his lips to Albus' bare shoulder and whispered, "Are you ready, little Kelpie?"

Albus found that words were still beyond his abilities at the moment, and merely nodded his head. Gellert reached down and ran his finger around the glowing gem of the ring, "You're so brave—so beautiful."

Gellert slid from the bed and circled back around to the bottom of the bed and stood behind Albus. Albus closed his eyes as the cool wetness of the produce was traced down the crack of his arse before it circled his rim. "Lube will dull the sensation, so I'm not going to use any," Gellert's deep, soft voice rolled over Albus, soothing him, and he focused on relaxing the tension in his muscles as Gellert continued, "but don't worry, little Kelpie. The ginger is wet enough on its own to slide right in."

Gellert pressed inwards and the root started stretching Albus' furled rim. Gellert toyed with him, pressing in until it felt like his passage was about to open, then backing off, until Albus was biting back a whine at the need to be filled with anything. Finally, Gellert didn't back off and Albus felt the glorious sensation of the cool root sliding inside him, pushing forward until his rim caught on the carved notch at the base.

Gellert petted his arse cheeks and praised him for being so good and Albus was enjoying the cool tingling feeling in his arse until the warm hands retreated and one came down fast, smacking one of his cheeks. Albus jerked forward, clenching his cheeks as Gellert rained open-handed slaps down on his arse, and before long the tingling sensation shifted into a mild burn as his body clamped down on the ginger and warmed it.

Albus groaned at the feeling and then the spanks stopped and he heard Gellert move away. Albus squirmed at the growing burn as he heard a drawer slide open; then Gellert was walking back towards him, "Your arse looks so beautiful all red and hot from my hand. How do you feel? Is the ginger burning yet?"

Albus squirmed from Gellert's hands rubbing and squeezing his inflamed skin. The burn in his arse had grown in intensity and was now insisting itself into his focus. It wasn't hurting, per se, just a nagging discomfort. "Ungh...yes, sir," Albus managed to grit out.

"Good." Gellert glanced up and took a look at the ring on Albus' finger. The gemstone was glowing a grass green colour and Gellert gave a satisfied smirk. Albus was so trusting and responsive to him and it made his dick rock hard in his tight leather pants.

He stood there twirling the cane in his hands, letting Albus stew for a bit and build up the anticipation; then with no warning, he pulled his arm back and let the cane streak across Albus' round arse. Albus let out a garbled cry and his back curved, muscles clenching in pain. Gellert could hear the laboured breaths rattle in and out of Albus' nose as he rode out the sharp lick. The ring remained resolutely green.

Gellert continued to dole out sharp cracks of the cane, sometimes letting thirty seconds pass between lashes, sometimes letting loose three snaps in quick succession. The whimpering sounds that were coming out of Albus were more pleasing than the world's finest symphony as far as Gellert was concerned. He kept a close eye on the ring, making sure that Albus wasn't approaching his limit yet as he struggled between the warring need to protect his raw arse or alleviate the burn inside his body.

After thirty minutes or so, Gellert figured that the ginger's effectiveness would start ebbing soon, so he tossed the cane down onto the bed and removed the ginger. Pulling his wand out, he conjured some soothing ointment and smoothed his hands over Albus' bright red skin, enjoying the deeper red cane marks that criss-crossed across it. Albus was sniffling a bit, and Gellert bent down and placed two soft kisses over the dimples of Venus on his lower back before he wrapped his arms around Albus' middle and pulled him up to standing.

Gellert pulled Albus back against him firmly, knowing that the smooth leather material would feel soothing against Albus' hot, abused skin. Albus tilted his head back against Gellert's shoulder, his eyes squeezed closed. Gellert turned his head and ran his tongue up Albus' cheek, licking up the salty trail of a tear. "You did so good, baby. I'm so proud of you," Gellert praised Albus as he rubbed his hand in slow, smooth circles.

He waited while Albus calmed down, petting his chest and abs and whispering praises into his ear about how amazing he is and how happy he made him. Gradually, Gellert worked his hand down and scraped his fingernails through Albus' pubic hair, tugging gently on it. Gellert continued the shower of praise as he stroked Albus' cock, the flesh filling slowly in his hand. As Albus' cock stood to attention, he shifted back and let out a gasp as his raw skin rubbed against Gellert's crotch. Gellert reached down with his other hand and pushed on Albus's groin, pinning him in place, "Don't move, baby. Just let your Master take care of you."

Albus started panting, his chest heaving, as the rest of his body went taut. Gellert sped up his strokes, focusing his movements near the tip of his penis. Albus huffed out a mumbled " _close_ " and Gellert reached his other hand down and pressed the palm against Albus' glans, rotating his hand back and forth while continuing to jerk the shaft with his other. The combined sensations didn't take long to take effect and then Albus' come was filling his hand. He stroked Albus through his orgasm, gradually easing off as his cock began to soften in his hand.

Gellert stepped back and wrapped his arm around Albus' waist, guiding him around the bed and laying him out on his front on top of the bedspread. He cast a _Warming Charm_ over him, knowing that his skin would be far too tender to be under the bedsheets tonight. Gellert walked around the bed and laid down on the other side, turning toward Albus, whose head was turned toward him on the pillow. He reached over and smoothed Albus' hair back, tucking it behind his ear, then he rubbed firm circles over the smooth, unmarred skin of his back as Albus' eyes drifted closed.

Gellert's face lit up with a bright, warm smile that nobody else ever witnessed, "Sleep well, my little Kelpie."


End file.
